Shadow Mentality
by ilsdawarby
Summary: "Tom Branson, you're our mole to get rid of the Crawleos." Late 20s/Early 30s AU featuring the mafia/mob. Rated T for future violence/language.
1. Prologue

"Do you understand this is going to be extremely extensive, _intensive,_ and possibly fatal, correct?"

"I do."

"Do you pledge to never reveal your actual alliances?"

"I do."

"Do you pledge to get any and all information we may find useful?"

"I do."

"Do you pledge to weasel your way in and break up everyone?"

"I do."

"Tom Branson, You're our mole to get rid of the Crawleos."

"Tom Branson, welcome to the Crawleo mob. You've proven your dedication by killing a member of the Maronis. I've just got a few rules.

"One: the oath of silence. You cannot speak to the authorities unless ratting out the other mafias. Two: you cannot speak of our business to non-members. Associates count as members. Your family does not.

"Three: If a member is killed by another member, you cannot commit revenge murder until I have given permission. Four: No fighting among members.

"Four: your tribute. You must pay me monthly, and give me a cut of thirty percent on side deals. Five: adultery is not permitted with the wife of another member. Wives must be treated with respect, as well.

"Six: no facial hair. I don't need to elaborate. Seven: homosexuality is not allowed. I don't think that one needs explanation, either.

"Eight: you must tell the truth to members, my family, and associates. Nine: appointments must be respected. If you don't understand that, ask someone else.

"Ten: you can call members of equal status by their first names, but anyone above you must be called by their appropriate title, including associates. For example, you would call me Lord Crawleo. Do you agree to abide by these rules?"

"Yes, Lord Crawleo."

"Congratulations. Oh, and stay away from my daughters." A shot rang through the air, followed by a grunt from the lower member.

Tom grasped his right shoulder and pulled out the dart, which was about fifteen centimeters long and one centimeter in diameter.

"It's your marker. Every member has one. A small hole that won't close up in their shoulder. You're dismissed now."

Tom walked out of the office and ripped the sleeve of his t-shirt off, inspecting his new scar. He chuckled. _A welcome to the Crawleos, alright. _


	2. Chapter 1

_Two months later_

"Why exactly do we have to be against them, again?" Tom asked, reloading his gun. The popping sounds were surrounding him, Thomas, and Alfred. Jimmy and William had disappeared into the line of fire, but had sent a message saying they were okay.

"They're a rival family. Back in the day when the Strallans and Crawleos founded New Ripon, the Maronis tried to take over. Ever since then, we've been against them," Thomas replied, cigarette between his teeth. He sucked in as much smoke as he could, then leaned out the window, releasing a stream of bullets.

"Must you always smoke when we go on raids?" Alfred asked, annoyed. Thomas gave him a cheeky smile and leaned back out the window. Tom did the same and aimed at a man who was aiming at them, shooting his right shoulder cleanly.

"What is that, Thomas? Four for me, one for you?" Tom held out his hand, and Thomas rolled his eyes, rummaging through his pocket. He pulled out another quarter and handed it to Tom, who grinned and put it in his pocket.

"Good thing you only bet quarters, huh?" Alfred asked, leaning against the wall.

"I only let you come with us because I'm friends with your aunt. So be quiet and shoot someone,"

"Matthew picked me," Alfred grumbled, making Tom laugh. _This mission is pointless, _he thought, _and the amount of men who have been out is too many._ Matthew, Thomas, Alfred, Jimmy, William, and Tom. _If the Crawleos want to kill themselves, let them, _he thought. The only reason so many Maronis were being injured was because of the Stewarts. To get rid of the Crawleos, they had to beat the primary enemy. It wasn't really that hard, since the Maronis paraded around their so-called "territory" in plain sight.

The door burst open, and Jimmy stood before them, panting. William pushed him into the room and slammed the door behind them.

"Jimmy was too busy checking out a Maroni girl to realize he was about to be shot. Lucky for him I was there," William said, taking his hat off.

"I actually agree with William, Jimmy. You need to be more careful," Thomas said, causing Alfred to snort.

"More than one reason why," he mumbled, and Tom raised an eyebrow. If there was dirt against Thomas, he was going to find it. Tom was going to find and exploit all their secrets so he could bring them down. The door opened again and Matthew walked in, sweaty and carrying a Tommy gun.

"We're going back, it was a successful raid. Head out," he turned on his heel and they followed, Thomas making a mocking face before leaving the room.

* * *

Sybil Crawleo tucked her feet under herself and leaned forward, on the verge of having a good hand. She grinned and put down a 6, 7, 8, and 9 of spades.

"I play that off of yours, Mamma. I'm out of cards, too, so game over, right?" she said, looking at the others playing with her.

"It's not your first game, Sybil, don't act like you don't know when the end of the game is. Besides, we all knew you won, you're just bragging," Mary said condescendingly. Sybil rolled her eyes and leaned back in her chair, glancing over at Edith, who was talking quietly with Anthony Strallan. The two kept gesturing to his lame arm, and Strallan was visibly uncomfortable.

The door banged open and Robert, who was speaking with Violet and Charles, stood up to greet Matthew. Charles rushed over and closed the door, putting the extra lock on, and Robert closed the curtains.

"Successful mission, I assume?" he asked as Matthew poured himself a glass of whiskey. Charles sat back down next to Violet, who sat up a bit to hear the conversation better. Robert and Matthew sat down across the coffee table from each other, Matthew unbuttoning his suit jacket and taking a sip of the alcohol. Mary joined him, and he put an arm around her, but she shrugged it off.

"You assume correctly. No fatalities or injuries on our side. It's a miracle, really, but Daniel helped me get the papers," Matthew pulled a thick orange envelope out of the inner pocket of his jacket, and slid it across the table to Robert. Robert checked behind himself to make sure the curtains were closed again, then pulled the plastic bag out of the envelope. It contained vials and test tubes filled with odd liquids, smaller bags containing labeled hairs, and more.

"Is that a vial of _blood?"_ Edith asked, horrified, and Mary sent her a look to silence her.

"Perfect. Being the good man you are, I assume you'll pay your men fairly." Robert pulled a smaller, but equally thick envelope out of the inner pocket of his suit jacket, and slid it across the table. Matthew lifted the flap, leafed through the bills, and shoved it into his pocket.

"Of course. Thank you, Robert. I'll be waiting," he stood up, finished his whiskey, and held out a hand to Robert, who stood up to shake it. Charles opened the door and Matthew left, leaving everyone staring at the bag.

"Is that supposed to be a supplementary to the chemistry set you bought as a boy?" Violet asked, and Mary stifled a laugh.

"Private business. You'll have to excuse me," Robert stood up and left the room, most likely heading for his study, which only Charles and Violet were allowed to enter.

"So, are we playing another game of cards?" Edith asked from where she was sitting with Anthony.

"Come to think of it, I'm getting bored with cards. I'm going to bed, goodnight," Sybil said, standing up abruptly and leaving.

"I should be leaving anyways," Violet said, and Cora shrugged. Edith, defeated, turned back to Anthony, who smiled.

* * *

"Good raid, boys, here's each of your pay," Matthew handed out the money to each man in envelopes at their table in the back of the speakeasy. It was nowhere near closing time, but it seemed like Matthew had no intention of staying. Tom opened his envelope and glanced in to see one hundred dollars. His eyes bugged at the amount of money and he folded the envelope, pushing it into the pocket of his pants.

"I'll contact you when I need you next," Matthew continued, then turned around and left. Jimmy waited until he was far enough away, then turned back to the others.

"Think there'll be any _ladies_ here?" Jimmy asked, and Alfred rolled his eyes.

"It's not a bawdy house," William said, "and I have a girlfriend, so I wouldn't want to see that anyways," William walked over to the bar, where a pretty young girl with dark hair and big eyes was standing. He leaned down to kiss her on the cheek and promptly called over the bartender.

"Who's the girlfriend?" Tom asked Thomas, who was smoking a cigarette.

"My sister Daisy. I have to get along because they abso-fucking-lutely love each other. It's sickening," as his cigarette became only ash, Thomas popped another into his mouth and lit it quickly.

"That's disgusting," Alfred said, staring at the cigarettes.

"Then don't watch!" only Tom, Thomas, and Jimmy remained at the table now. Thomas was staring at Jimmy with an expression Tom could only describe as lust, and Jimmy looked uncomfortable.

"I'm meeting someone, so I'll see you chaps later," Tom said, pushing his chair back and getting up. He walked across the bar to a table where Kieran sat, a cigar in his mouth and a girl in a fringed dress on his lap. Tom sat down and cleared his mouth, but the intimate conversation and passing of the cigar didn't stop.

"Get rid of the slut and we can talk," Tom said, and Kieran glared at him.

"We'll talk in a bit, alright, Nora?" he said, and the girl stood up, giving Tom a nasty look. He rolled his eyes and signaled the bartender over, ordering a Guinness.

"So?" Kieran asked.

"One hundred dollars. I could buy a Ford on credit, at this rate," Tom's Guinness arrived and he took a long drink of it, letting Kieran think.

"I meant what the mission was for. You didn't specify when you called me about it,"

"Oh. Not sure. They don't tell us this stuff, and I don't have access to the Downton Mansion yet. Once I do, I'll be everywhere," Kieran rolled his eyes.

"Don't get too ahead of yourself, Tommy. We all knew you were picked for the job because I got tuberculosis last year and the rest of them are too suspicious,"

"Bollocks. You're just jealous. It's not like it even matters, Kieran."

"That's what you say, but it does!"

"Fine, fine," Tom glanced over to where Thomas and Jimmy had been sitting, but Thomas was there with a woman who seemed much older than him now. Jimmy was sitting at the bar with three girls, all of them taking brightly colored shots. William and Daisy were still at the bar together, but Alfred had joined them with a blond girl.

"What, you jealous because all of your friends have girls?"

"Maybe. I'm twenty-four. Shouldn't I have a girlfriend by now?"

"Yeah, you should. Now, if you'll excuse me, I actually have Nora to go back to," Kieran stood up and walked away, leaving Tom at the table.

* * *

The next morning, Sybil sat with her mother in the family room, both of them reading. Sybil was reading _Babbitt_ by Sinclair Lewis, while Cora was reading the newest Vogue magazine.

"You know, I hear Larry Grey wanted to take you on a date,"

"Mamma. I'm not interested in Larry, he's foul,"

"If you'd give him a chance, I think you'd find he's a nice boy,"

"You only say that because his dad is a Lord in England. You're so rooted in your English past,"

"He's very good looking,"

_"Good_-looking? Ha! Larry looks like a rat. No, I'm not going on a date with him, that's it,"

"You're so stubborn sometimes. You know your Nonna just wants you married,"

"I'm eighteen! I have my whole life ahead of me, why settle down now? It's not the old days anymore, it's the twentieth century. I'd like to wait a little before I get married, like everyone else,"

"It's funny how unlike your sisters you are. Mary and Edith are competing over how many boyfriends they can get."

"And they pick the most ghastly men to fancy!"

"I thought you liked Matthew,"

"I do, but Mary doesn't really fancy him. She's toying with him- she did last night! I feel bad for Matthew. He really does like her, you can tell. He's nice,"

"Larry is very much like Matthew, Sybil,"

"No, he's not. You won't persuade me, Mamma." Sybil stood up with her book and left the room, in a worse mood than she had been.

* * *

**A/N: I felt like parts of this were slightly filler, but the next chapter will be more interesting, I promise! Anyways, sorry for the delay in posting this _and_ Silent Ardor- I had midterms week last week and it took two days for my brain to finish writing/editing this chapter. Also, I don't think I mentioned that this takes place in Cleveland around 1927. I really wanted it to take place in Cincinnati, where Cora is from, but the mafia was more prevalent in Cleveland than most places in Ohio. Cora is from England, while Robert is Italian-American. Hope you enjoyed! :)  
Disclaimer: I do not own Downton Abbey or any of its characters. **


	3. Chapter 2

_Six Months Later_

"You can ask any of the daughters to dance, but don't even approach Cora. He'll fucking kill you," Thomas said, taking another drag on his cigarette.

"Why do I have to wear a tux? Why not a suit?" Tom asked, fixing his bowtie in the mirror. Thomas rolled his eyes, then laid his arm on the windowsill so his cigarette was leaning out. He flicked it a few times to get rid of the ash and released the smoke from his mouth.

"It's a black tie ball. You wear a tuxedo to a black tie ball. At least it's not a white tie ball. Don't make me regret helping you, Branson. I offered to William and look at our friendship now," Thomas hated William, and the feeling was mutual. Tom laughed and Thomas gave a weak smile.

"There's going to be other girls besides _his_ daughters, right?"

"Of course. You've got Sarah, Gwen, Edna, Alice, Anna- she's dating John, don't touch her-, May, Elsie, Daisy- she's dating William-, Ethel, Lily, and Beryl. I'm not sure if Marigold will show up, but she usually does. Those are the ladies we would associate with. There's also the upper-class women. They'll dance with you if you ask, but that's about it. Jimmy's the only one to have had luck with the upper-class ladies," Thomas flicked the fag end out the window into the rain and shut the window, locking it as well.

"I'm not surprised he has the money to throw the ball, but I'm surprised he's got more than one a year," Tom commented, and Thomas nodded.

"He has one for Cora's birthday, which is this one, and on Christmas Eve. Mary, Edith, and Sybil get cocktail parties for their birthdays. There's another one, too, I believe, but I can't remember what it's for,"

"I suppose we're going now?"

"Correct, rookie," the two exited their shared apartment and walked throughout the building until they got to the parking lot. There, William, Jimmy, and Alfred were waiting.

"It's about time," William said. They all walked to Thomas's fancy Ford Model A, which he was able to get months before the public. He had been with the Crawleo mob for ten years now, and was as rich as Matthew Crawleo had gotten in the past six months. They all got in, and Jimmy, who was sitting in the passenger seat, started fiddling with the cast iron unit.

"Ah, no. My car, my temperature," Thomas said, and Tom laughed. The five were part of the younger group of soldiers in the Crawley mob, so they were often grouped together under Matthew's ruling. Thomas reached out and changed the heat setting, turning it up higher so the heat was blasting.

"Come on, can't you turn that down? Wearing all this makes me hot!"Jimmy complained, and Alfred rolled his eyes.

"I happen to like it hot," Thomas grinned and sped out of the parking lot towards Downton Mansion.

* * *

"I bet Nonna's going to have a heart attack when she sees your dress," Edith said to Mary, who took a sip of her martini. Edith was wearing a perfectly conservative dress that had three-quarters length sleeves and didn't even show her collarbone. Sybil had taken the halfway and was wearing a dress that covered her collarbone, but had no sleeves and went to her knees.

"Relax, Edith, it's just a bit lower, shows my legs, and has no sleeves. Nothing more is shown than when I wear a bathing suit," Mary's dress was above her knees, as she didn't care if anyone said anything. She was scandalous, and she liked it that way.

"Your whole chest is showing!"

"But not my breasts, so it's fine. Besides, you wouldn't be able to pull this dress off,"

"And why not?"

"Only girls with nice arms can wear dresses like these,"

"Are you implying I don't have nice arms?" there was a pause as Mary took another sip from her drink.

"Maybe."

"Sybil, do I have flabby, yucky arms?" Edith asked. Sybil rolled her eyes and leaned back in her chair.

"Don't involve me in this," she groaned, reaching for her martini. Edith snatched it away and held it out of Sybil and Mary's reach.

"You're acting like a child, Edith. Give Sybil her drink back and grow up."

"I don't need to be stood up for, I'm an adult!" Sybil protested.

"I'd hardly call eighteen an adult, Sybbie,"

"The government recognizes eighteen year olds as adults,"

"Oh, don't get all technical! Edith, just give Sybil her drink back and we'll be done with this,"

"How come you're the one always giving the orders?" Edith asked.

"I'm the oldest, of course,"

"That doesn't mean you're the most important,"

"I cannot take this!" Sybil half-yelled. The people around them glanced over, but turned back around when they realized it was the Crawley daughters yelling. If they were to say anything, they would be kicked out of the ball, and it was near impossible to get an invitation. Sybil stood up, grabbed her drink back from Edith, and stormed away.

* * *

"That's Edith, twenty, with red hair, and Mary, twenty-two, with black hair, sitting at the table. The brunette one who just got up is Sybil, she's the youngest. Turned eighteen a month ago on June 18th," Thomas said, pointing the girls out with his drink. Tom noticed that each of them was beautiful in a different way: Mary was revealing and seemed brash, Edith was pretty in an old-time kind of way, but Sybil? Sybil caught his eye. He watched as a handsome man with a grey bowtie approached Sybil, starting a conversation. She looked visibly annoyed until she practically ran away, shoving her drink into his hands.

"Who's the man she just ran away from?" Tom asked, glancing back over at Mary's very exposing dress.

"Larry Grey. He's been after her since June, and Cora encourages it since his dad is a Lord back in England. Sybil absolutely hates him, but he follows her around like a lost dog. Just watch, in a few minutes he'll ask her to dance," Thomas laughed, and finished the rest of his brandy, putting the glass down on the bar and signaling to the bartender for another.

"Think she'd dance with me?"

"Maybe. If it means getting away from Larry Grey, then most likely," Tom put his glass down on the bar and walked away in the direction Sybil had disappeared to, past the sitting area by the stairs.

"Another for me!" Thomas took Tom's glass and finished the rest himself just as his next brandy came out.

* * *

Sybil checked behind herself to make sure Larry hadn't followed her down the stairs to the dance floor, where people were waltzing. She saw Matthew Crawley speaking with Evelyn Napier and practically laughed- both were head over heels for Mary, who only had eyes for Richard Carlisle.

Embarrassed that she had come down here with nobody to dance with, Sybil hid half behind a column, hoping Larry would finally get the hint and stay upstairs.

"Care to dance?" someone asked with a strong Irish accent. She turned around to see a dashing man with light brown hair and blue eyes inquisitively looking at her. Sybil wasn't sure how he had gotten there without her knowing, but she didn't care.

"At this point I'd say yes to anyone," she replied, taking his open hand. The two made their way to the dance floor and joined the foxtrot, looking like all the other couples, including Robert and Cora.

"You're new, aren't you? I've never seen you around," Sybil said, glancing over to see Mary now dancing with Richard Carlisle. He, along with Evelyn and Matthew, were gaping at the low neckline of her dress, but Richard was trying to stare at only her face.

"I joined a little over eight months ago, m'lady,"

"Using the titles like my Papa told you, I see. I won't tell if you don't call me by mine. How's the mark?"

"Excuse me?"

"Don't act all innocent, I know my Papa shot you in the shoulder when you were meeting him after being initiated. Still bleeding a little, or done?"

"It's done bleeding, mostly. If I exercise too hard, it'll bleed a little,"

"I'm sorry to hear that. I remember Thomas was still bleeding for a year afterwards. Disgusting poison darts,"

"I hope I won't have that. He's my flatmate, actually,"

"Here in America we call it a _room_mate," Sybil said with a giggle. Tom grinned and saw Larry Grey glaring at them over her shoulder.

"Excuse me, I'd like a dance with this fine young lady," someone said. Tom released his grip on Sybil's hand and turned to see Matthew Crawley, who had led his last raid.

"She's all yours," Tom smiled and walked back towards the stairs to go up to the bar. Matthew and Sybil, good friends, started chatting immediately as he walked further away.

* * *

_ This isn't how you're supposed to act, Tom!_ he thought. _Make the damn girl fall for you, get the secrets, and bring down the mob. _

Tom stepped into the designated phone room and dialed the operator, then got connected to his brother.

"Got information?" the raspy voice, belonging to Kieran, asked.

"No, but I've got a way to get it. The youngest daughter. I danced with her, and I think we could either be friends or I'll get her to like me,"

"I hope you don't mean real friends. Aidan would be pissed if you are,"

"No, no, I mean she'll think we're friends. I'm not an idiot,"

"Good," Kieran hung up and Tom grinned. His brother was all business until you gave him a pint, then he loosened up. They would warm up to his plan though, Tom was sure.

* * *

Sybil sat at the table with Edith and Anthony Strallan, who was being terribly boring as usual. She wished someone else would ask her to dance again to escape, but the handsome man with the blue eyes had disappeared. He did mention Thomas being his roommate, though- and Thomas was standing at the bar talking to Sarah O'Brien.

"Excuse me, I have to go talk to someone," she said, standing up. Edith looked like she could care less, and Strallan didn't even look away from Edith.

"Hello," Sybil said, and the two at the bar turned to her.

"I just remembered, I have to go ask Anna about arrangements for the guns," O'Brien said, and she walked away, leaving Sybil with Thomas.

"Hello, Sybil,"

"Thomas, who is your roommate?"

"And why might you be asking?"

"Oh, don't give me sass, I'll tell Papa,"

"Tom Branson. He's an Irish fellow,"

"Thank you, Thomas, that's all I needed to know."

* * *

**A/N: To - Tom's actually part of a _third_ gang you haven't been introduced to yet. They'll come into play in a few chapters. Hope you guys liked this chapter! It had small talk that didn't matter (I felt) between Sybil and Tom, but they had to meet somehow! Anyways there hasn't been much action/violence yet, but it'll be coming... soon ;)  
Disclaimer: I feel like this is pointless, so I'll be leaving this out for this story and Silent Ardor now.**


	4. Chapter 3

Sybil knew she would find her father in the library, and that was the first place she had gone to. Sure enough, there he was, reading a book on some sort of biology from the large bookshelves full of old, yellowed books from centuries long gone.

"Papa?" she asked, and he looked up.

"Sybil, how can I help you?"

"Well, I know how you have a bodyguard for each of us now, and I was just thinking…"

"About what?"

"Actually, never mind, it really doesn't matter,"

"Now that you've brought it up I need to hear it,"

"See, here's the thing. William, he's really nice and good at his job, but he's not really the best fit for me. I think he'd be a better fit for Edith,"

"So you're saying you would like me to give you a different bodyguard?"

"Yes, that's correct,"

"I know Jimmy just got fired for womanizing on the job, we-"

"If you _did_ give me a new bodyguard, I wouldn't want it to be Jimmy."

"Why? He's perfectly suitable!"

"Like you said, he got fired for womanizing. He makes me a bit uncomfortable,"

"The only other soldato I could think of who doesn't have a job would be Tom Branson. I'd feel a little uncomfortable placing him, though, seeing how he hasn't had a year's experience yet,"

"That's okay, Papa, I'm sure he's fine. I mean, you _did_ pick him to be in our mob, it's not like he's a traitor or anything!"

"You're right. I'll contact him later tonight, and we'll let William take Alfred's bodyguard job. I'm sure Alfred wants to get a new job," Sybil enthusiastically nodded and kissed Robert on the cheek.

"Thank you, Papa!" she left the room with a sly grin. Sybil knew how to make her father do anything for her, and she had just found a way to get to know this Tom man better. It would _definitely_ be an improvement from Larry Grey.

* * *

"Ha!" Alfred yelled, grinning. He pulled the pile towards himself and added it to the bottom of his existing deck. Tom sighed at his bad luck as Alfred flipped an eight of spades, then he flipped a ten of diamonds. The group of five was playing Egyptian Ratscrew, and they all bet a dollar each game. Alfred was currently winning, and had gotten fifteen dollars, while William had five.

The phone began to ring, and Thomas leaped up to answer it.

"Hello?" as soon as he did, his face turned even paler- if that was possible- and Thomas made frantic motions to the others to stop yelling.

"Yes, I'll get him," Thomas pointed to Tom and then to the phone, and put the phone piece down on the table. Confused, Tom stood up and took the phone piece, holding it to his head.

"Hello?"

"Tom Branson, this is Robert. You will be starting as my youngest daughter Sybil's bodyguard, tomorrow. From the yelling earlier I presume William and Alfred are there, so you may tell William that he will become Edith's bodyguard tomorrow. Tell Alfred he is to find a new job and if he cannot find one within a month he may come to me for other options. I expect you to arrive tomorrow at seven in the morning." The line hung up and Tom put the phone down before realizing he was shaking. Was his new boss really that intimidating? Lord Crawleo hadn't even been in his presence and he was shaking. Aidan never did that to him... maybe it was the voice that sounded like it was dripping with ice, or the slight Italian accent.

"William, you're Edith's bodyguard tomorrow. Alfred, you need to get a job and if you can't in a month go to _him._ I'm going to bed,"

"What? We've only played four games!" Jimmy protested, but Thomas elbowed him.

"I have to be at _his_ house at seven tomorrow!" Tom shouted, turning to the bedroom. As he changed into his pajamas, he could hear the others leaving. Thomas entered the bedroom a few minutes later, smoking another cigarette.

"That's a bloody unhealthy habit," Tom said, getting into bed. He pulled the blankets over himself and turned over, trying to get comfortable on the thin mattress.

"I don't bloody care," Thomas said with a slight, yet authentic, Manchester accent. Tom's eyes shot open, but he didn't move a muscle. Thomas was from England? It explained why he spoke slowly sometimes, why his army medic's uniform in the closet looked different than the United States uniform, why Thomas occasionally used British words.

Thomas was a man with many facets, Tom could tell, and he now knew one- Thomas was British.

* * *

Tom sat bleary-eyed in the passenger seat of William's car, a Ford Model T. William looked like he was used to waking up at six and leaving at six-thirty, for he had banged on the apartment door at six-twenty saying he'd give Tom a ride if he wanted. Tom hadn't gotten dressed faster in his whole life, even when the nuns had found him shirtless with Niamh Kane in Catholic school. He was excited to be the bodyguard for the beautiful girl he had danced with at the ball, that couldn't be doubted- he just didn't like the hour he had to wake at. It reminded him of his schoolboy days, which he was glad were over.

"So what do you do, exactly?" Tom asked. William tightened his grip on the wheel as he made a sharp left turn.

"You've got a gun on you, right?" Tom felt the Webley Revolver in his pocket and nodded.

"There's a reason for that, you're a bodyguard. You have to protect your girl. But besides that, you have to do whatever she wants. Drive her around, take her to speakeasies, that kind of thing. I've been guarding Sybil for a year or so now, and the thing she loves to do most is go to speakeasies. Before that I guarded Mary for six months, and Edith for nine. Trust me, Sybil's the least formal of the three. You've got it easy," it was a lot to take in before seven in the morning, but Tom nodded and yawned. They were at the Mansion within another ten minutes, and William parked in the garage. As they got out, he pointed to another car in the back. There were five others, all with a special marking near the right rear wheel.

"That's their spare car, which you can use until you get your own. Going by his preferences, I'd buy your own as soon as you can, which will be pretty soon,"

"Why?"

"You get paid for being a bodyguard, of course. It's not something you're obliged to do; he counts it as a real job. Not the best pay, since he pays you like a real job, but it's better than just doing raids and nothing else,"

"So I'll have more money soon?"

"Yes."

They walked in silence towards the house, and as they approached the back door, William knocked out a code: long short long short long long. Tom realized it was Morse code for "CM", which he assumed stood for "Crawleo Mafia." Sarah O'Brien opened the door, and William turned back to grin.

"Ready?"

Was he ever.

* * *

Sybil sat at the breakfast dining table with Mary, Edith, Matthew, and Robert. Cora took breakfast in bed like an English woman, which was the only reason O'Brien was hired. Cora demanded that she still have a ladies' maid, and had brought O'Brien with her from Yorkshire.

"Where's Carson? I want to go shopping already," Mary complained, stirring her oatmeal around.

"Matthew is a perfectly fine substitute, Mary." Robert said, not even looking up from his newspaper. Matthew smiled at Mary, who looked away, not wanting to be bothered. She was seeing Richard Carlisle now, and didn't want to make him think she was cheating.

The door to the dining room opened and the bodyguards for the girls walked in, standing in a line against the wall. Sybil glanced up, and noticing Tom was standing among them, she smiled. He started to smile back, but William elbowed him and he wiped the smile from his face, willing it to be like stone. They couldn't do anything in front of Robert, he remembered.

"You may go shopping now, Mary," Robert said.

"Until later, Papa," she got up, kissed him on the cheek, and left with Carson.

"You know, Papa, Mary is wasting _so_ much money shopping all the time. You should put a limit on it," Edith said, sipping her tea.

"Don't involve me in your petty disagreements, Edith," Robert said. Sybil stifled a laugh at the fact he never looked up from his newspaper at breakfast, yet he was always involved in the conversation. Edith huffed, got up, and left, William hurrying along after her.

Once she finished eating, Sybil cleared her throat and stared expectantly at Robert. She folded her hands, waiting, and he sighed.

"Yes, Sybil?" he asked, flipping the page to glance at a Ford advertisement.

"I'm going out tonight, so don't expect me for dinner," she got up and walked out the door. Tom glanced at the doorway, to Robert, and back at the doorway, unsure what to do.

"You're supposed to follow her," Robert said. Tom blushed and hurried after Sybil. Robert looked up and shook his head, smiling.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed this chapter. :) Also the girls don't say "Papa" like they do in the series. On Downton they say "Pa-Paa" kind of, whereas here it's faster- "Papa." Same with "Mamma." Just something I wanted to throw in! **


	5. Chapter 4

"Nice to see you again, Tom," Sybil said as they walked down the hall. He wasn't sure where they were going, but he followed her a few steps behind like William had said to.

"As with you,"

"I must tell you; this job is going to bore you. There isn't much to do that ladies are allowed to do during the day besides shop and sit around at home. But there's lots of fun at night!"

"Really?" Tom thought of bringing her to speakeasies like William had told him earlier. He suppressed a yawn as she led him into a large sitting room.

"Oh, definitely. I love speakeasies. We're going out somewhere tonight, actually. That's why we won't be at dinner," Sybil sat down on a couch, and Tom inspected each luxurious chair, unsure where to sit.

"Where should I…?" he asked, gesturing to them.

"Anywhere's fine, really. I don't care," she took a book from the table next to her and started reading. Tom saw the title and smiled.

_"The Murder of Roger Ackroyd,_ hm?"

"I love mysteries- they've actually got a plot, unlike the romances Edith likes to read. I've already read this a few times, but it never gets old," Sybil said about the book, and he could tell it was her favorite.

"Romance doesn't seem your type,"

"It isn't Mary's either. What do you read?"

"Usually nonfiction things. I like history and politics,"

"Those sound more interesting than anything I've ever read. Please, enlighten me," Tom knew Sybil wasn't being sarcastic, but her choice of words suggested otherwise.

"Well, I'm a socialist, so-"

"Don't tell Papa that. He's more of a social Darwinist, actually,"

"I won't mention it, but I'm surprised he doesn't know. The background check to get in was quite extensive!" he grinned, and Sybil laughed. The conversation was effortless to Tom, unlike most other missions he had done previously for the Stewarts. He'd never admit it to them, but he was already fond of Sybil. She was kind and truly interested in what he had to say.

"Sorry for interrupting, go on,"

"I'd like to be a political journalist,"

"That's a fine ambition."

"Ambition or dream? It's a demanding career, and I'm not sure I'll ever be able to leave the mob,"

"Are you insinuating that you don't like it?" Sybil had never heard anyone breathe a word against her father _or_ the mob, and was surprised to hear it now. She assumed that people didn't like him- but not people who were _part of_ his mob.

"No, I'm saying eventually I'll want to leave,"

"Anybody would. We've had a few people leave already, like Taylor. He left to open a tea shop, which is a mad idea. The main market for tea is in the United Kingdom, whereas here everybody likes coffee,"

"How _would_ one leave?" the first question. Tom hoped she would answer instead of becoming very defensive, like Thomas or William would.

"I'm not quite sure of the details, but I know he worked out something with Papa. Taylor made a deal to not give away any secrets and to occasionally prove that he still had an allegiance to us,"

Tom nodded, pretending to think. That was easier than he thought it would be. Being Sybil's bodyguard would be nice and easy, and he would get lots of information.

* * *

"Larry Grey," a bodyguard who was younger than Tom said, and Larry walked into the sitting room. The boy pulled the door shut behind him, not entering the room.

"Are you really so snobbish that you can't introduce yourself?" Sybil asked, rolling her eyes. Larry ignored her comment and sat down on the chair adjacent to the couch she was sitting on.

"I've called on you to take you to dinner tonight,"

"So it's okay to just assume that yes, I will go to dinner with you, hm?"

"You will- your Mother said you would!"

"My Mother doesn't know what's best for me, unfortunately,"

Tom glanced at Larry, whose temple was visibly pulsing. Sybil was clenching her jaw, one of her hands wrapped tightly around her book.

"So you won't be going with me tonight."

"No. I've already made plans, which you aren't a part of,"

Sybil stood up, placing her book back on the table.

"Come on, Tom, we've got to get going anyways," Tom stood up and glanced down at Larry, who was glaring back at him. Just to be annoying, Tom flashed a smile at Larry before following Sybil out of the room.

"Sorry he's so horrid. And we're a bit early, but that's okay! Gwen usually gets there before me anyways,"

"Who's Gwen?"

"She's my best friend. She works as a secretary for Doctor Clarkson, and I volunteer a lot at the hospital. That's how we met," they got to a door and Sybil smiled.

"You can't come in, I have to change. Just… wait here," she popped in the door, leaving Tom to his thoughts.

So it wouldn't be that hard to leave the mob once he was done- provided it was still going. Which it wouldn't be, that he was sure of. He still had to call Aidan and tell him what he'd found out about Thomas.

* * *

Tom sat in the driver's seat of the car, next to Sybil, who was watching him with great curiosity. She had changed into a much shorter dress with no sleeves, and put her hair up with a thick headband. Sybil looked like one of those girls… he couldn't think of it… he knew it started with an f.

"You don't know how to drive it, do you?" she asked, and he could hear the disappointment in her voice.

"No, no, I do, I haven't driven in a while,"

"Just remember, we're on the right side of the road," Sybil said with a sly smile. Tom rolled his eyes and pulled the hand crank, starting the engine. Once he had control of the wheel, they were going, Sybil telling him the directions as they approached intersections.

"Pull in here!" she pointed to the right, and Tom pulled into the parking lot of a church. It was large and ornate, and Sybil hopped out of the car as soon as he parked. St. Rocco School, one of the buildings said, so he assumed it was St. Rocco's Church.

"We're going to church?"

"No! My papa will think I'm here doing charity if he sees the car. We're going across the street," Sybil crossed the street without looking either way, running across in her two inch heels. Tom wondered how she was able to even walk in them.

"Are you coming?" she yelled, standing on the sidewalk across the street, hands on her hips. He glanced right, then left, and sprinted across the street. Sybil grinned at him and started towards a building with a large sign reading 'Johnny's Bar.' Knocking on the door, it was opened by a tall man with black hair that was slicked back.

"Sibulla! Il tuo amico Gwen ha il tavolo, io vi ci porterà. Presumo si vuole andare in giro indietro dopo, no?" he asked.  
_Sibulla! Your friend Gwen has the table, I will take you there. I assume you will want to go around back afterwards, no?_

"Ovviamente, Azzo. Questa è la mia nuova guardia del corpo, Tom. Siamo buoni amici, così lo trattano bene."  
_Of course, Azzo. This is my new bodyguard, Tom. We are good friends, so treat him well._

"E perché non dovrei?"  
_And why wouldn't I? _

Azzo stepped aside and let the two in to a room with just stairs and another door. He motioned to the stairs, which Sybil was already ascending, and Tom had no choice but to follow. However, he could hear noise, and a lot of it, coming from the other door. Azzo followed them up, then showed them to the table where a girl with red hair and a dress similar to Sybil's was sitting. He pulled out a chair for Sybil, who sat down in it, then Tom's.

Azzo left and Tom unbuttoned his suit jacket, leaning back in the chair. Gwen wasn't bad-looking, but she had the air of a taken woman to her. _Another lost connection,_ he thought.

"Per voi da bere?" a man Tom assumed was their server asked.  
_For you to drink?_

"What do you like to drink, Tom?" Sybil asked.

"Just a water," he said, and she laughed.

"You're no fun," she turned to the server. "Un bicchiere di rosso per lui, e bianco per il mio amico e io."  
_A glass of red for him, and white for my friend and I. _

"Do they have a telephone?" Tom asked quickly.

"Avete un telefono?" Sybil asked the server.  
_ Do you have a telephone?_

"Sì, mi segua, per favore,"  
_Yes, follow me, please. _

"Follow him," Sybil told Tom. He stood up and followed the server to the back of the room, where there was a small booth with a telephone in it.

"No fee for Crawleo family," the man said with a thick Italian accent.

"Thanks," Tom replied. He sat down and brought the receiver to his ear.

"Yes, could you direct this call to Aidan Stewart?" he asked once the door to the booth closed.

* * *

"He's much cuter than William," Gwen said, taking a sip of her white wine.

"Very cute. I danced with him not too long ago, actually. At my family's ball,"

"Sorry I couldn't make that! My father gets so sick these days,"

"Tonight should make you forget your worries, shouldn't it?"

"Always. So, you danced with him? You like him already, don't you?"

"Maybe."

"You do, I can tell by the look on your face!"

"Alright, so I do. There's nothing wrong with that!"

"No, there isn't, except for the fact he _works for your father._"

"You make it sound like he's filth,"

"He's got an Irish accent. You _know_ what happened the last time Irish boys got on your father's territory,"

"Relax, that was back during the Great War when there was a land struggle. Ten years ago, Gwen! It's the past,"

"You don't remember because it was ten years ago. _I _remember, though. My uncle died because one of your father's men thought he was on the Irish side,"

"Like I have many times, I apologize,"

"Which you don't have to. It wasn't your fault,"

"Pronti per ordinare?" the server asked, popping up out of nowhere.  
_Ready to order?_

"Shit, Tom isn't back! What do Irish people eat?" Sybil asked Gwen.

"Um, potatoes? And I want the rigatoni with meatballs," Gwen said. Sybil glanced down at the menu, searching for anything with the word potato or similar. She found it, potato gnocchi.

"Eh, gli gnocchi di patate, rigatoni con polpette, uova e pappardelle."  
_Uh, the potato gnocchi, rigatoni with meatballs, and egg pappardelle pasta._

"E antipasti?"  
_And appetizers?_

"Nessuno oggi," the server nodded, took their menus, and walked away. Sybil craned her neck to look at the booth, which the door to was still closed.  
_None today._

"How long does it take to make a telephone call?" Sybil asked, and Gwen shrugged.

"Sorry I took so long, the operator took a while to connect me," Tom said, sitting down. Gwen raised her eyebrows at Sybil, who rolled her eyes.

* * *

Dinner had been uneventful. Gwen and Tom realized they had a bit in common, while Sybil felt jealous they got along so easily without needing her. For most of the conversation she felt like a third wheel. They talked about job struggles, women's equality (which Sybil _had an opinion on,_ but she couldn't find an opportune time to enter the conversation), and coming from poor families. Sybil had never tried to get a job and her family certainly wasn't poor, so she had silently eaten her food and felt her resentment towards Gwen build.

Tom had liked his potato gnocchi, and thanked Sybil for ordering it for him, which made her feel slightly better. They were now finishing their dessert, tiramisu pudding, which Sybil had ordered.

"Sybil, how come you haven't ordered this before?" Gwen asked, sounding tipsy. She hadn't stopped after three glasses of wine, like the other two, and was on her fifth.

"You've always wanted gelato," Sybil said, slowly edging Gwen's wine glass away. She waved over their server and he hurried over to them.

"Aggiungere il desegno di legge per scheda di mio padre. E assicurarsi che non beve troppo al piano di sotto," she muttered to him, and he nodded, whisking away the wine glasses and their empty dessert bowls.  
_Add the bill to my father's tab. And make sure she doesn't drink too much downstairs._

Turning to Tom, Sybil grinned brightly.

"Ready to have some fun?" she asked. He glanced at his wristwatch and frowned at the time- ten o'clock.

"Isn't it a wee bit late to have fun?"

"The party's just starting, Tom!"

"È ora di andare al piano di sotto, Sibulla?" Azzo asked, and she nodded. He led them back downstairs and unlocked the door Tom had originally seen. Following Sybil and Gwen in, he realized that this was the speakeasy of all speakeasies.  
_Time to go downstairs, Sibulla?_

* * *

**A/N: This chapter is super long to make up for not updating in about a month or so. Before editing and adding this author's note, it was 2,132 words (that's a pretty long chapter for me). Just a few notes about this chapter:  
1. On Sybil being called Sibulla: I figured since he's speaking Italian, Azzo isn't going to be calling her the English version of the name, he'd be calling her the Italian version, which happens to be Sibulla. It could also be a pet name people know her by, whichever you prefer.  
2. The Italian Speaking: I'm not doing this every chapter. It's all done with Google Translate (I only know very basic Italian, but I'm working on it), so it's probably not perfect. Also, like in many immigrant families (like my dad), they speak their dialect/language at home. Obviously the Crawleos would, but since it takes extra time/work to do this, and I'm lazy, it won't be in every chapter unless people are commenting saying they like it a lot/want to see it more.  
3. The Location: Johnny's Bar is a real place in Cleveland, as is the church St. Rocco's across the street. Johnny's was where the mob went, too. I'm not sure how (or even if) the speakeasy there worked, so for the purpose of the story the upstairs of the building is where the restaurant is and they use the downstairs as the speakeasy. Also, I've read that Cleveland police officers didn't really enforce prohibition that well... fact check me if you want and I'll add something about that. :)  
4. Irish/Italian struggles: there were actual struggles between the two, but from what I've read it occurred mainly during the 70s. For the purpose of the story it will also occur in the 1910/20s.  
I hope you've enjoyed this chapter and that it makes up for the long time I haven't updated! :)  
**


	6. Chapter 5

**Warning! This chapter has a part that's a little yucky. :( It's not extremely disturbing, but more yucky than I usually write. Just wanted to say :)**

* * *

People were _everywhere._ A bar was set up along the wall, with what seemed to be mirrored shelves filled with bottles and bottles of alcohol. Beer, ale, wine, champagne, cider, spirits, liquor, gin, rum, tequila, whisky, vodka, and more. Tom was in awe at the sheer amount that had been crammed in it. On a stage across the room was a band, playing a fast song in a language he couldn't understand. The people milling around the room had drinks in their hands, while dancers were lively despite the late hour.

Sybil tapped him on the shoulder and said something he couldn't hear, so Tom shook his head and leaned in closer.

"Do you know the Lindy hop?" she yelled. He shook his head.

"How about the Charleston?" another shake. Sybil sighed. "Well, you're going to learn the Charleston!" she grabbed Tom's hand and pulled him onto the dance floor. Gwen smiled and walked off in pursuit of a man she had made eyes at during dinner.

"Put your other hand on my back!" Sybil said, grasping his left hand and holding it up. They were facing each other, pressed close together by the others brashly dancing around them to melodies.

"Now tap your left foot behind," she pushed his left foot back, then put her right foot in front of it. "Bring it back." Tom brought his foot back. "Shift your weight onto that foot and put your right foot forward," Tom shifted his weight and put his right foot forward as Sybil put her left foot back.

"Is that it?" he asked. She nodded with a wide grin.

"Time to do it to the tempo of the song!"

"What?" the song was fast, very fast, and Sybil started moving faster and faster, Tom struggling to keep up. Their feet were soon tangled and she stopped and put her hands on his shoulders to fix it, laughing the whole time. A song that was slower, but still upbeat came on, and the two managed to dance to the tempo of it.

"Did you and William dance like this?" Tom asked, trying to get information while focusing on his feet. He was having more fun than he had had last time the Stewarts went to a speakeasy, and he'd only danced with one girl the entire night.

"No, not really. He was too tall and pretty clumsy. I let him bring his girlfriend once and they danced, but not this type. They mostly do ballroom type things, maybe a Latin dance or two,"

"Did you do any of this with William?"

"No, not really," Sybil stared down at the ground, her eyes not meeting his and a slight blush spreading across her face. Tom ignored it and glanced around the room for Gwen, who had disappeared. He saw her with a man who had slicked back hair and a greedy look to him.

"Should you be concerned about her?" Tom tilted his head in Gwen's direction and Sybil turned to look, but dismissed it with a roll of the eyes.

"She does this every week. Gets herself tipsy on the wine, then has other boys pay for more drinks down here even though I _tell the people not to give her more._ And she gets drunk, then we have to worry about her getting home. Usually she tries to go home with the man who's been buying her drinks. Seems like this week it's the same man as last week,"

"He's got an odd watch on, that's for sure," Tom was staring at the man's watch, transfixed at the mix of bronze and gold in it. Sybil froze in his arms, slowly turning her head to look at the man's watch. She whipped back around, panic in her eyes.

"Go upstairs and call Thomas, tell him to bring as much backup as possible," she whispered, her eyes darting around to find more of the watches.

"What? Why?" Sybil got on her tiptoes, putting her lips to his ear.

"Those watches mean they're a part of the Maronis," she whispered, and Tom's eyes grew wide. "Now you know why we've got bodyguards," she said, pulling away and staring back down at the ground.

"I'll call them," Tom started off of the dance floor, but Sybil grabbed his arms. He looked down at her and saw the fear in her eyes.

"I'm coming with you," she said, quickly linking her arm in his and plastering a grin on her face. "Act like I'm completely drunk and you're going upstairs to call my brother," Sybil let her legs wobble a little and stumbled as they walked. Getting to Azzo, Tom pointed to her, a good-natured smile on his face.

"Need to call her brother. Could you let us back up to the telephone?" Azzo nodded and let them through the completely empty restaurant to the telephone booth. He left them and Tom turned to Sybil.

"Won't he realize you don't have a brother?"

"Matthew Crawleo is considered to be like a brother to us. It wouldn't hurt if he told Mary how he felt and tried to convince her that she truly felt that way, but… oh, just make the call!"

Tom dialed the operator and told Thomas everything Sybil told him to, hearing chairs scraping on the other end. No doubt everyone else was playing cards without him, making up crazy stories how his day went. Now they would be with him in seconds.

"Shit!" Sybil's eyes were wide when Tom turned around to question the use of the word, and her hands were covering her mouth.

"What? We did everything we need to,"

"No, Gwen is still downstairs! God knows who's going to die when they show up, but I don't want her to, she's my friend!"

"So we get her and go,"

"No, you're going to be here shooting. I hope you have a gun. I'll make a run for it with her, though we won't get too far without an automobile. Actually, we'll just go to the auto and you can sneak over there once it's over,"

"Has this happened before?"

"Once, last year. Most of the people died. Azzo even got shot,"

"This is _normal?"_

"Quickly, before they get here!" Sybil was hurrying down to the room, and Tom followed behind her. Azzo let them back in, a knowing look on his face, and didn't bother locking the door behind them. Instead, he went upstairs and locked himself into the telephone booth.

"Where the hell is Gwen?" Sybil was frantically looking around. "Oh, sorry for the foul language, I made a bet with Edith I'd stop and now I owe her five dollars, darn it,"

"Over there?" Tom tried to discreetly point to a table where five men wearing Maroni watches were sitting with Gwen.

"I can't go over there." Sybil said.

"Why not?"

"They'll shoot me in an instant. You have to go, now!" she pushed Tom towards the table, and he shot her a dirty look before fixing his jacket and strolling over to the table.

"Hey, Tom!" Gwen exclaimed, taking a slurp from whatever she was drinking. The other men all turned and glared at him.

"Sorry to take this fascinating lady, men, but she's my cousin and I promised her father I'd get her home before too much trouble happened," Tom reached over and helped Gwen get up, all of the men still glaring. They started to walk away, until:

"Hey." Tom froze, his eyes meeting Sybil's, then he turned around.

"Do I recognize you?" one of the men, who was smoking a cigar, asked.

"Probably not, I just moved here from-"

"Ireland, I can tell by the accent," another said. He rummaged around his inner suit pocket, and pulled out a small card made of cardstock, and flicked it across the table to Tom. He picked it up and glanced at it, reading '_Renzo Vallone: Lawyer.' _

"If you get into a tight spot, give me a call. I know some of the authorities don't like Irish men. We might be able to use you," Renzo said. Tom nodded and turned back around, leading Gwen across the room to Sybil, who was standing partially behind the bar.

"Thank God. Come on, Gwen, we need to get home," she said, taking her friend by the arm. Gwen hiccupped and shrugged.

The door burst open and bullets whizzed through the air. The music stopped and women screamed, men yelling. The man who had been playing the drums crouched down, hiding behind his drumset, while the man who had been singing fell to the ground, blood spurting out of his neck.

"Get down!" Tom said, pushing Gwen and Sybil behind the side of the bar. He pulled his gun out and made sure it was loaded, then held it up. Thomas, Jimmy, Alfred, and Matthew entered the room, all with their guns up and pointed.

The Maroni men stood up and pulled out their guns, one even getting a knife, while one slowly edged out of the room. Tom recognized him as Renzo, the one with the business card, and shot at him, but Renzo escaped, the bullet going through the wall.

"Four left?" Jimmy yelled to Tom over the screams.

"I hope so!" he glanced back at Sybil and Gwen, who were no longer there, and cursed, hoping they had hidden themselves better instead of being shot.

More bullets flew through the air and the two men ducked instinctively as a bullet hit the wall behind where they had been standing. Jumping over the bar, Tom hid behind it as Jimmy turned a table on its side and pressed himself against the back.

Reloading his gun, Tom peered over the edge of the bar and quickly ducked again as bullets shot past him. Standing up quickly, he shot at where one of the Maronis had been standing and ducked back down, hearing a satisfying thud. The man was lying on the ground, a bullet hole in his forehead.

"Nice shot, Branson!" Jimmy yelled, shooting at another Maroni man. He missed, instead hitting a man who was protecting a woman, and cursed. The woman screamed and grabbed the man, trying to revive him, but blood pooled underneath the two.

"You owe William a dollar!" Alfred yelled at Jimmy from the alcove he was hiding in. Aiming his gun, Alfred shot the Maroni man Jimmy had been aiming for in the shoulder, then the stomach and the middle of his back. Tom shot a few more times and missed some of them, then reloaded his gun as the screaming died down. He stood up and saw that all of the Maroni men were nowhere to be seen, but plenty of other people had died. Panting, he realized now how fast his heart was beating and that he was actually the least bit scared. Not that he'd admit it, of course.

As if in slow motion, he saw the man who had pulled out a knife run towards Matthew, the knife drawn.

Matthew simply punched the man in the face, sending him backwards onto the floor. Alfred and Thomas restrained him, and Matthew took the gun. Tom jumped back over the bar and joined Jimmy, who was surveying the damage.

"This is much worse than last year," Jimmy said, "They shot more civilians this time. Probably to get rid of our supporters, since this is a place frequented by the Crawleo family,"

_"What the hell were you doing here?" _Matthew roared at the man, holding the switchblade to his neck.

"No inglese! No inglese!"  
_No English! No English!_

"Don't lie to me, Bernardo, what were you doing here?"

"We were gettin' drinks like any otha man!"

"Really? In an area _across town from where you like to go?"_

"Scusa, scusa! I ain't the boss, I'm just a soldato!"  
_Sorry, sorry! ….. soldier_

"I'm aware! You boys do what you want with him, but do _not_ kill him," Matthew handed the switchblade to Jimmy, and his eyebrows rose in surprise at seeing Tom.

"Didn't know you were here, Branson,"

"I brought Sybil here to meet her friend,"

"Are they still _here?"_ Matthew's eyes darted around, landing on the heads peeking at him from behind an overturned table. Sybil was over in seconds, throwing herself into Matthew's arms for a hug, and he hugged back tightly after a second. Gwen came over, stumbling over to Tom and slinging her arm over his shoulders.

"How are you, cuz?" she asked, her breath hot on his face. Tom pulled her arm away and sat Gwen down on a chair, before hearing the bloodcurdling screams of someone else. He glanced over to the source of the sound, but the backs of Alfred, Jimmy, and Thomas were blocking his view.

"Oh my _God,"_ Sybil said, turning away from the men, who she had been watching. She pressed a hand to her mouth and turned away. Tom's brow furrowed and as he glanced over, a popping noise sounded. Something rolled past Alfred's foot… an… eyeball?

"Is that…?" he trailed off, turning to Matthew, who was still comforting his younger 'sister.' Matthew nodded, a sour expression on his face, and sighed. Thomas bent over and picked up the eye, holding it up to the light.

"Who wants to eat it?" he asked, grinning. Jimmy laughed and grabbed the eye from him, pretending to eat it, then threw it across the room like a small ball.

"Can we leave now?" Matthew asked, shoving his gun between his belt and his trousers. "The cops will be here any minute now and I don't want to be seen around here when they show up," the others nodded and stepped away from Bernardo, who had passed out from the pain. His right eye socket was empty with blood trickling out of it, and Tom quickly glanced away.

"Do you need me to take Sybil home?" Tom asked.

"No, I'll take her home. I'll spare you Roberto's wrath for a day. Take her friend home, make sure she's safe. You can bring the car back tomorrow," Matthew lead Sybil away, and Tom felt a pang of jealousy that _he _was the one hugging her, _he_ was the one comforting Sybil, _he _was the one taking her home. Tom was left to take a drunken girl home.

_Dammit, Tom, you aren't supposed to think like this!_ he told himself, then went over to help Gwen up.

They got to the car just as the police arrived at the bar, and Tom made sure to drive away quickly so they wouldn't suspect him.

"Where do you live?" he asked Gwen, who was sitting in the backseat.

"A house!" she said, which was followed with a hiccup. Tom sighed. It was going to be a long rest of the night.

* * *

Sybil sat in the front of the automobile next to Matthew, who was driving. They were silent, both thinking about what was to happen with her father.

"Why were you there?" Matthew asked quietly.

"What?"

"Why were you there?" he spoke louder, but stared out at the road, not bothering to glance at her.

"I was meeting a friend for dinner and we went downstairs afterwards,"

"To a speakeasy?"

"Yes."

"Sybil, you're eighteen,"

"I have drunk alcohol at dinner!"

"And that is the only place your father thinks you _have_ drunk at! He has no knowledge of you going to these places!"

"I'd like to keep it that way, Matthew!"

"Would you? What am I supposed to say when he asks how you happened to be there?"

"Say that Tom was called, and he was about to take me home, but it was too urgent, so I was in the car,"

"Have you seen yourself?"

"…what?"

"Sybil, you look like you were there. I suggest going straight to bed and I'll try to deal with your father," Sybil stared down at her folded hands in the dark, trying not to cry. She didn't want her Papa to know where she had been, or what she had been doing, or any of it. Especially the fact that she had been dancing with her bodyguard, who she liked, just the tiniest bit.

When they arrived at the mansion, Sybil scurried upstairs before her father could see her, just as Matthew said.

All she could think about while lying in bed was how confident Tom had looked during the shootout. He didn't seem to think about the fact that he could have died, or gotten shot, or any of that. Tom seemed to be in the zone, almost, not even thinking about it.

* * *

"It's getting worse, Berto," Matthew said, taking another sip of wine.

"I knew those bastards would try to pull something. Well, did you kill them all?"

"All but one. He managed to stay out of the fight, but some of the boys had their way with him afterwards. Probably going to be in the hospital for the next few days,"

"Really?"

"They popped his eye out and got some sick pleasure from it. You know the boys,"

"I used to do the same thing in my twenties. Well, good thing they're all dead. It takes a while to get more recruits."

"We need new tactics. Keeping them out of our territory isn't working that well,"

"Are you insinuating that our current tactics aren't sufficient?"

"No, I'm just saying that we might need to build our numbers and get into a larger fight, kill more at once so it's even harder for them to get more people, and we can finish them off-"

_"Do not try to get power before you have it!"_ Roberto roared, standing up quickly. His wine spilled onto the tablecloth, but neither noticed.

"You think this is about me trying to usurp you? No, Berto, I'm trying to _help_ you!"

"If you keep acting this way, I might have someone else become the new boss!"

"I'm the only one who could inherit the position!"

_"You selfish figlio di una cagna!" _Robert kicked Matthew's legs out from underneath him, making him fall to the floor, then kicked him in the side. He quickly got on his feet and took a step back._  
_…_son of a bitch!_

Matthew straightened his jacket and frowned.

"I see how it is now," he said.

"When I have a use for you, I will call you, but do not set a foot into this house _until that moment!"_ Robert said. Matthew turned on his heel and left the sitting room, letting the door slam behind him.

He ran into Mary on his way out.

"What happened? I heard yelling," she said, walking alongside Matthew, trying to keep up with his pace.

"Your father thinks I'm trying to usurp his position, while all I'm trying to do is help him,"

"He gets things the wrong way. What did you say?"

"I tried to get him to reconsider his tactics," Mary froze, shaking her head. Matthew stopped and walked back to her.

"That is the one thing you don't dare to do, Matthew," she said. He sighed and let his head hang, running a hand over his face.

"I've had to do a lot of things I'd never dare to do before joining all this,"

"Surely you don't regret it?"

"No, not at all,"

"Good."

"Mary, I…" he looked up, gazing into her eyes and pleading, almost.

"I cannot give you what you seek, cugino. It… I'm seeing Richard Carlisle now. He cares for me, and I am… fond of him,"  
_...cousin._

"Are you not fond of me?"

"Of course I am, just in a different way. It's almost midnight; I should be getting to bed. I'll see you soon, no?" he shrugged, and she kissed him on the cheek before turning for the stairs. Matthew watched as she left, then ran his hand over his face again. She had slipped through his fingers yet again, and there was nothing he could do.

* * *

"It was mad, Aidan. After all that they killed three of them and mauled another,"

"Mauled? Ha! We can do worse,"

"They popped out one of the man's eyes while he was screaming,"

"I've done more than that, Tommy," Tom's grip on his glass tightened, and he took a sip to avoid saying something he shouldn't. Aidan sat across the table, smoking a cigarette and drinking beer, despite the hour.

"Well, I should be getting home,"

"Wait- the card?"

"Oh, yes," Tom pulled the card Renzo had given to him and handed it to Aidan, who studied it for a minute.

"I'll contact him tomorrow- today- and see what we can accomplish. Get me more information today. I didn't get any besides your phone call,"

"I think I've told you plenty, Aidan,"

"What did you say, Branson?"

"Nothing, nothing at all," Tom nodded to Aidan and quickly left, not wanting to start something with his boss. Aidan was prone to violence and Tom had gotten the brunt of it many times before, often for something Kieran had messed up.

Speaking of Kieran, he met Tom as he left the meeting room.

"He pleased with you?"

"I suppose. Give me a ride home, would you?"

"Anything, Tommy,"

"Stop _calling_ me that! I'm not a boy anymore,"

"You will always be my little brother," Tom groaned at the forced brotherliness and got in the car with Kieran.

They rode in silence, taking the Crawleo's car, and Tom wondered how his brother would get home. Probably would find a girl he knew who lived around and stay the night.

Before he dozed off in the car, he thought of Sybil, and how before the whole 'incident" as Tom called it, she was having fun, like any other teenage girl. And the Charleston- he knew how to do the Charleston now. A smile was on Tom Branson's face as he slept.

* * *

**A/N: That's the longest chapter I have ever written! Woo! It took a while, but it's finished. Whew *wipes brow*. Hope you enjoyed the action, there actually was some this time! Also, you met Aidan ;) He'll get some more time later on, but for now, he's just a mystery... hahaha. I'll try to update Silent Ardor next, but it depends on which story I get inspiration for. Thanks for reading and hope you liked the chapter! **


	7. Chapter 6

_Two Weeks Later_

"So I've decided what we're going to do today," Sybil said, standing up and putting her finished book back in the bookshelf. Tom glanced up from the newspaper he was reading and raised an eyebrow.

"Really? Have we?"

"And tomorrow, too!"

"Give me the lowdown, then," Tom said. He wasn't quite sure what would happen after the whole shootout at the speakeasy. Sybil seemed upset about it, but she didn't let that show the next day. Instead, she took him out to a place that, in her own words, 'serves up a mean brunch.' It really did, and he had some great pancakes with his eggs, sausage, and toast.

"I was kidding about today, but I do know what we're doing tomorrow- seeing an Indians game!"

"A game with Indians in it?"

"I mean the baseball team. You know what baseball is, right?"

"No."

"You hit a ball that's thrown at you with a bat,"

"Oh, so kind of like cricket."

"Yes! It's more exciting though. You get to eat ice cream and yell at the players the whole time. It's loads of fun,"

The door opened and Cora walked in, smiling at the two. Tom sat back in his chair and Sybil sat up straighter. Whenever someone else came in, they had to act what she called 'professional': unless it was something that needed to be conveyed, they didn't talk. Tom just had to blend into the background. Sitting down on the chair next to Sybil, Cora turned to her daughter.

"Sybil, you won't believe what I was able to set up for you tonight. You're going to go to dinner with Larry!"

_"What?"_

"Exciting, isn't it? He's going to come pick you up tonight. You'll go out to dinner somewhere, I'm not sure where, but it-"

"Mamma, I don't want to go out to dinner with Larry."

"He's a perfectly nice boy, and his father happens to be a-"

"I don't really care about what his father is in England, it's just a title, which amounts to _nothing_ here!"

_"Just listen to me for a moment!"_ Cora said. Tom's eyebrows shot up, as did Sybil's, and her eyes were wide, surprised. Cora took a deep breath and smiled again.

"You're going to go out to dinner with Larry tonight. Tom," she said, addressing him for the first time, "you will not need to go. I trust Larry enough to protect Sybil." A snort came from the mentioned.

"Thank you," Tom said, bowing his head in deference. Cora was gone a moment later and Sybil sighed.

"Normally she's a wonderful mother but this is insufferable! I truly detest him,"

"I'm sorry you have to do it," Tom said. He wished _he_ could be the one taking Sybil out for dinner. They had so much fun together and sometimes Tom thought he might _like_ her- not that he'd admit either fact.

"I'd rather have you go, honestly. The only things Larry can manage to talk about are himself or complain about things. He's so insensitive," Sybil wished that Tom was the one she'd be going to dinner with more than he did. According to Mary, she had a 'wonderful relationship' with him- but Sybil had told her it was a different boy so there wouldn't be any suspicion.

* * *

"Learn anything else?" Aidan asked, leaning back in his chair, a cigar hanging out of his mouth. Tom always hated tobacco, especially the smell.

"Not really, but she tells me little bits here and there. They've got relatives in Italy who are powerful, but not as much power as they have here. The Maroni gang is trying to infiltrate, but we knew that. They're losing some territory, but it's being gained back quite easily,"

"Anything of importance?"

"Well, she went to go take a bath one day so I tried to find possible entrances into the home that nobody would notice. There's a verandah with a door they leave unlocked for Mary to come in and out of. I asked Sybil about it when she came out, claiming it had blown open."

"So they just leave it unlocked all the time?"

"If they're going away they lock it, but otherwise, yes, it's unlocked all the time. Apparently Mary comes and goes during the night a lot- with Richard Carlisle- and they don't want her to bother the rest of the family so they told her to use that door,"

"What parts of the house is it near?"

"Not any rooms of importance. I mean, Mary's bedroom is right there, but besides that it's just a long hall leading to the foyer."

"I think we might be able to get someone in Mary's bedroom to mess things up a bit for the family,"

"I don't understand what you mean."

"We make sure this Carlisle man is out of town. Then, I send in a boy to her room. It's simple,"

"Carlisle is out of town on business tonight," Tom said, remembering what the girls had been talking about at breakfast. Mary said she wasn't feeling well and was going to have an early night, but had to go out to dinner to make an appearance in place of Robert, who was visiting an analyst in Chicago.

"I have a friend named Kemal Pamuk who surely will be able to help us," Aidan pulled the receiver from the telephone and asked for the operator.

Tom realized exactly what Aidan was planning and got a sick feeling in his stomach.

* * *

"Aren't you Mary Crawleo?" the handsome man asked. He was standing over Mary's table, and she glanced up as if she hadn't noticed him, smiled.

"That would be me," Mary said. She had shooed Carson off when she saw the man and made sure to look very… feminine, attractive.

"Even more stunning in person! I'm Kemal Pamuk. My father is the mayor of Mayville," Kemal reached out and took her hand, kissing the back of it. Mary grinned- she liked charming boys.

"What are you doing so far from home, Mr. Pamuk?"

"I have a friend who needed me for some business planning. Boring things, the like. Are you eating dinner alone?"

"Yes, yes I am."

"Might I join you?"

"That would be wonderful!"

"By the way, you aren't dating that Carlisle fellow, correct?"

"No, we're… on a break."

"Good. I wouldn't want to be having dinner with another man's lady," the two smiled at each other and Kemal motioned the waiter over.

Carson did not like this man.

* * *

"The service here is despicable! We have been waiting ten minutes since the order and _still_ haven't gotten our food. Do they _know_ who are parents are?" Larry's accent was bothering Sybil. On their many trips to England, specifically Yorkshire and London, Cora had taught her how to distinguish different accents. According to her mother, Larry's accent would be more of a London accent, a Southern one, if Sybil could recall. To her, they sounded similar, besides those from Ireland, Scotland, and Wales.

"They know, Larry," Sybil groaned. He had threatened the poor waiter when he arrived, asking why he hadn't come straight to the table after they had been seated.

"Do they? Good. You know, my father could have you accompany me to London when I go for Christmas. It's very nice,"

"Thank you, but Christmas is a family holiday,"

"I'm sure your family could come as well. Your grandmother _does_ live in Yorkshire, right?"

"Yes, she does," Sybil traced the rim of her wine glass, which was damp, and caused it to make the ringing noise she did to annoy people at dinner sometimes.

"Could you stop that?"

"What?"

"That ringing noise. It's bothering me."

Sybil traced the rim faster now, trying to suppress her grin. Larry rolled his eyes and reached out, pulling her wine glass away.

"Hey! I was going to drink that!"

"No, you weren't. You're just trying to annoy me so I'll take you home." Sybil was surprised he had caught on to her plan that easily. Then again, she was being a bit obvious.

"Just admit it, Larry, it's not going to work out," she sighed, and he did as well.

"Once we're done eating we can go," he said.

After the relatively quiet meal, and an awkward debate over who got to eat which dessert, ending in Sybil getting the cheesecake and Larry getting the mixed berry pie.

When he pulled up to the entrance to Downton Mansion, Sybil pulled her purse from down by her feet.

"Thanks for being understanding, Larry," Sybil said, turning to say goodbye, when suddenly Larry was pressing his lips against hers. Pulling away, her face contorted with disgust at him and she slapped him.

"You disgust me." she hissed, opening the door and getting out of the car, walking away as fast as she could. Larry merely smirked as he drove away, knowing she'd come around eventually.

* * *

"So then I'm going to get out of the car- I turned to say goodbye and he _just kissed me!"_ Sybil said, recalling the moment, thinking of how gross it was. Not how she wanted her first kiss to happen.

"You're kidding!" Edith exclaimed, eyes wide.

"I've always disliked him, and you've given me another reason to," Mary said, folding her arms and sitting back. The three were sitting on Mary's bed in her bedroom, talking about their days- all three had had some sort of incident with a man. Mary had already told her story about Kemal, who after charming his way through dinner and paying for it, gave her his telephone number and told her to call him next time she wanted to go out.

"It's not like I can do it without Richard finding out, but I'll say it's for 'business.' He'll understand," Mary had told them. Now it was Edith's turn.

"I was taking a drive through the town with Anthony, it was absolutely wonderful…" she said, trailing off, a dazed yet happy expression on her face.

"That's very climactic, Edith," Mary said, rolling her eyes.

"I haven't told you the best part! He… he proposed!" Edith reached over and pulled a ring out of the folds of her robe, which was lying haphazardly on a chair. Sybil and Mary's eyes grew wide.

_"You're kidding!"_ Mary yelled.

"Let me see it!" Sybil held out her hand and Edith dropped the ring into it. It was a beautiful diamond, with a gold band encrusted with smaller gems of different colors.

"That is a beautiful ring," Mary said. The younger sisters could tell by her tone of voice that she was being genuine, and Edith beamed.

"Papa didn't tell me, even though Anthony asked for his blessing weeks ago… he told me he was waiting for when we could take a drive to the park, because he wanted the right weather. Isn't that just wonderful?" the other two 'aww'-ed and hugged Edith, glad for their sister. She slipped her ring on her finger and the three admired how it looked on her finger.

There was a light knock on the door and Cora popped her head in.

"I know you three are talking about _boys_ and Anthony's proposal, but it's almost eleven. You three should get your sleep. And Mary, I thought you weren't feeling well!"

"This news has made me feel much better," Mary said, letting herself fall back onto her pillows. Sybil laughed and got off the bed, tying her robe around her waist as Edith did the same, also putting her slippers on.

"Sybil, dear, why are you not wearing slippers? You're going to catch a cold."

"I don't need them. You're lucky I'm even wearing my robe!" she replied, standing up a little straighter. Cora just smiled and opened the door wider so the younger two could leave.

"Get your sleep. We can't have you getting sick," Cora said to Mary, then closed the door.

* * *

Sybil was walking through the hall to her room when she heard something. She stood and listened, hearing it again- it sounded kind of like the 'psst' sound you would make when trying to tell a secret. Turning her head, Sybil saw someone outside the window. It looked like… Tom? She rushed over and opened the window, making sure there was nobody else around.

"What are you doing here?"

"Stay in your room tonight."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. No matter what, you need to stay in your room tonight."

"Is something going to happen?" a cold breeze blew through the window and Sybil shivered, pulling her robe tighter around herself. She was wishing she had brought slippers now.

"I… uh, I don't know, I don't _think_ so. I just have a bad feeling tonight. Stay in, okay?"

"Alright. You shouldn't even be seeing me like this, it's inappropriate!"

"How was dinner with Larry?"

"Absolutely horrible. He kissed me and I slapped him," Tom felt jealousy bubbling up inside of him, but was glad Sybil had slapped him. She complained about him every time he called on her, though, so he couldn't blame her.

"Nice job. Now close this window and stop being so inappropriate. You'll catch a cold," he teased.

"Oh, don't be my mother! She said the same thing earlier about my not wearing slippers," Sybil quietly laughed and closed the window, latching it shut, then waving to Tom. As she entered her room, she could have sworn she could have heard the squeaky door to the verandah opening.

* * *

_Their love was rampant, everywhere. Jeremiah pulled Elizabeth to his breast and kissed her passionately, running a hand through her curly mass of auburn hair. She pulled away to say-_

Mary heard her door open and glanced up to see who was coming in. Nobody appeared, and she got an uneasy feeling.

"Alright, Sybil, you got me, come on out," she said, putting her book down. She had taken off her dressing robe since she was a bit hot and was lying under the covers, trying to burn off her fever if she had one.

Sybil didn't walk around the door with a mischievous grin, but Kemal Pamuk did. Startled, Mary jumped out of her bed, pulling the blanket with her and holding it up so he wouldn't be able to see her indecently.

"What the _hell_ are you doing in here?"

"Seeing a beautiful lady, of course," Kemal shut the door and walked over to Mary, running a hand over her hair like Jeremiah and Elizabeth in her book. She took a step back and glared intensely at him.

"I'll scream." She threatened, but he merely took the step towards Mary.

"What would they say if they found a man they don't know but _you_ know in your bedroom, seeing you dressed _indecently?"_ Kemal took the blanket and took it from her, throwing it onto the ground. He pushed Mary against the wall, kissing her, her neck, her collarbone.

"Get _off_ of me!" she pushed him away, panting. "I was intrigued by you at first but after this I'll never be able to look at you the same!"

"I do believe I have the upper hand in this situation," Kemal pulled Mary to the bed and threw her down, putting himself on top of her and continuing what he had started. Mary knew what he was going to do and told herself to keep calm.

"Does it hurt?" she asked, trying to distract him.

"What, you've never had amorous congress? I know you and Carlisle go out every night!"

"But we don't do that."

The conversation ended as things went where Mary hoped they would not. Kemal's tongue was in her mouth and she no longer knew what was happening.

* * *

"He's… dead?" Mary nodded, in tears.

"Did he force himself onto you?" Mary nodded again.

"Did you stop him?" a shrug.

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"I tried!" Mary wailed, putting her face in her hands. "Mamma, I'm ruined! The Italian family won't talk to me because I haven't committed to monogamy and the English family will think I've caused a disgrace to our family!"

Cora stared at the corpse in front of her.

"We'll have to carry him outside. This isn't going to look very realistic."

"He's already dead, Mamma, you don't need to make it look more realistic!"

"Right. O'Brien, go open the verandah door." O'Brien left, closing the door behind herself.

"I am very disappointed. I will not tell your father because the shock would most likely kill him and he'd estrange you from the family. Being your mother I feel it would not only be a disgrace to us, but you are my daughter so I morally cannot let this happen."

Over the next hour the three carried Kemal's body far enough away from the mansion that it wouldn't look suspicious. Then again, the police stopped thinking too much about deaths in the Crawleo and Maroni parts of town. It happened far too often to waste the time.

* * *

"Found him dead in Mary's bed. Lord, it was a sight to see." O'Brien said, blowing smoke from her mouth. She was bumming some much-needed cigarettes from Thomas, who always had them and liked to have the latest dirt on anyone, be it his employer's family or just news about people back at home.

"Did they boff?"

"He forced himself on her and she tried to stop him, but yes, they _did. _You're not much better from what I hear, still out cottaging despite my telling you not to,"

"That doesn't matter. What matters is that this is very serious!" Thomas tried to suppress his grin, but couldn't.

"Stop being facetious. It is serious."

"What? You're the one who brought up my endeavors."

"Don't spread this around, Thomas. I heard their conversation and Cora said this would disgrace the family. If it does, I'm going to knock you upside the head,"

"You can count on me, O'Brien," Thomas said with a sly grin.

* * *

**A/N: I've been able to update THREE times in the past week. Yay! I've had more time on my hands due to situations in my city and got some inspiration for this chapter. Darcy! I fixed that chapter for you. Sorry I didn't notice it earlier- we Americans tend to generalize British accents! Also put in the whole bit about Larry's accent for you (the Borough of Merton is in southwest London so I had to put that it, as well) :) Also, I was on Mental Floss and saw this article about terms they used to describe sex in the 1800s... and the 'amorous congress' one made me laugh, so I just had to use it. Hope you enjoyed!**


	8. Chapter 7

Something was poking him. Tom groaned and rolled over, but the poking continued.

"Bugger off," he said, pulling his pillow over his head, and the poking _still_ went on.

_"What?"_ he yelled, sitting up and squinting around the room. Thomas stood before him, eating a bowl of cereal.

"You don't have to go in until noon today. The phone was ringing and I figured you'd get it, but you didn't wake up, so I had to get it. William's coming over, unfortunately,"

"Why?"

"To talk about something that happened or whatever. I think I already know what it is,"

"What happened?" Tom stood up and started getting dressed so he could hear what he already knew without Thomas seeing his reaction.

"This guy somehow made his way into Mary's room last night and raped her. Mad, huh?" Tom nodded, the sick feeling coming back. He _never_ should have mentioned the unlocked door, but it was too late now. The family was probably going to leave it locked now and give Mary a key.

"Thought you'd say crazy,"

"They mean the same thing."

"I know you're-" Tom was cut off by a knock on the door. Thomas left the room and answered it, greeting William as he came in. Tom stayed in the bedroom for a moment longer to listen to Thomas's false pleasantries, then entered their main room.

"Morning, Tom," William said, unbuttoning his jacket as he sat down. Tom nodded and ambled over to the kitchen area, rummaging through the cupboards for some bread to make toast.

"I don't suppose you've already heard? Jimmy said he knew already, though I'm not exactly sure how," he continued.

"Last night's incident, right?" Thomas asked, pulling a cigarette from his pack and lighting it. William nodded solemnly glancing down at his hands, which were folded in his lap.

"I just keep thinking about it, you know? Like if it had happened to Daisy. I don't know what I would have done, if it had," he said.

"Well, I would beat the wanker up," Thomas said, taking another drag.

"Anyways, nobody knows what happened to the man afterwards, which is odd, but there was a dead body recovered a few blocks away from the mansion early this morning,"

"Did they identify it?" Tom asked, taking his toast from the toaster.

"A Kee-maal Paa-muck, I think," William said, butchering the pronunciation. In differing circumstances, Tom would have laughed. However, one of Aidan's friends had been killed after doing something disgusting, which was nothing to laugh about.

"What time do I have to go, again?" Tom asked, leaving his toast on the counter.

"Noon," Thomas said.

"I need some air," he replied, grabbing his jacket as he left the apartment. He thought about confronting Thomas later about his hiding, what was happening to the family, _how_ this all got out in the first place.

"Branson." Someone said. Tom stopped in his tracks and turned his head to the left, seeing a familiar figure standing in an alley. He glanced around, making sure nobody of importance saw him, then followed the figure down the alley, until they were standing under a small patch of sunlight.

"Kieran, what do you want?" Tom asked.

"Meeting today at two. Mandatory."

"You _know_ I'm busy during the day- hell, Aidan knows it, too,"

"He said, and I quote, 'I don't give a fecking shit.' So it's in your best interest to go,"

"How am I supposed to go to a meeting for _this,"_ Tom gestured around with his hands, "while I'm doing business for the Crawleos?"

"Not my problem," Kieran grinned, then turned around and started walking further down the alley.

"You're great help!" Tom yelled sarcastically, and Kieran just laughed, not even turning around. Pulling his jacket sleeve up, he checked his watch- it was only a little after seven. He had five hours to kill. Hopefully that breakfast place from a few weeks ago was open.

* * *

Breakfast was somber in the Crawleo house. Mary didn't bother to show up, and everyone seemed to know but Robert, who had been told that his eldest daughter had been assaulted on her way home from dinner. He had arrived home at five in the morning and had no idea anything had happened until Cora fabricated the story, telling everyone to go with it.

Edith was sorry for her sister, but was still ecstatic about her engagement. Of course, what was now being referred to as the 'intruder incident' had overshadowed her news, and in trying to overlook the event, Cora had already thrown herself into planning.

"Mamma, it's only been a day! I'm not hurrying into this just yet," Edith said. She, Cora, and Sybil were sitting in the library, a magazine with the latest wedding dress designs sitting in Cora's lap.

The large doors to the library opened and Mary walked in, cradling a cup of tea in her hand. Violet followed, letting the door slam behind her.

"I'm glad that in the midst of an assault we still have a wedding to look forward to," she said, sitting down on the chair closest to Mary. She, too, had been told the assault story.

"How soon is this going to be? I don't want to be married within the next month!" Edith said, a good-natured grin on her face.

"It won't be hard to plan. A nice ceremony at the church and a reception here. Not during Lent, Advent, May, or August. January or late April will be acceptable," Violet said.

"Why not during those time periods?" Cora asked.

"You cannot get married during holy times, and August is undesirable. Bad luck, sickness. We don't want that,"

"Is she getting married in the Catholic church? I'm Anglican and we've never formally had the girls choose either one,"

"You think a respectable Italian girl will get married in an Anglican church? No, no! Besides, they were baptized and confirmed at Rocco's." she clucked her tongue and Cora rolled her eyes, looking back down at the magazine. Mary settled further back in her chair, her eyes darting around the room. Sybil sent her a concerned glance, but Mary's eyes rested on the window, staring out at the late summer's weather. August was a beautiful month.

Sybil herself was upset that none of the bodyguards were coming until noon. The baseball game was starting at eleven, and by the time Tom arrived and they got to the stadium, it would be too late. _Maybe next year,_ she thought.

The door to the library opened and Carson poked his head in.

"Mary, a telephone call for you… Richard," she stood up quickly, her teacup rattling on the table as the chair jostled it. A displacement of air and Mary was gone, the door closed, as if nobody has been sitting in the chair. Only the teacup remained.

"Mary could sing at the wedding. She's got the voice and knows her Italian," Cora said. Violet sighed loudly, thinking of something to say about it being untraditional.

"I'd prefer if she was one of my bridesmaids," Edith blurted, hoping to spare Cora from being chastised again. Violet nodded at this and the bride-to-be sighed, relieved.

"Sybil, this is probably boring you. Why don't you go for a walk?" Cora suggested, and Sybil nodded, standing up to go outside. On the way out she stopped in her room to grab her wrap, because her dress had short sleeves. Sybil was able to tell when she wasn't wanted or needed in a room, and she was about to excuse herself when Cora had said to go for a walk.

As she walked, she passed the spot where the body of Kemal Pamuk had been found. Police were surrounding the area, which had been partitioned off with tape.

"Sybil?" someone asked. She turned and saw Matthew, who was jogging over. He slowed to her pace as he approached.

"Hello, Matthew,"

"Nice day, isn't it? A bit cooler than I'd expected, but the sun is shining,"

"It's shining to show us that there are still good things going on,"

"I heard about what happened last night."

"Who told you? It's seemed to get out to everyone, yet nobody knows the culprit,"

"William told me, but I didn't think to ask who had told him. Hm. Maybe I should, later,"

"Please do. I'm concerned this might get out to the papers, you know? I mean, Mary is dating Richard, but he doesn't own _all_ the magazines and papers,"

"Great point. Speaking of Mary… where is she now?"

"At the house, but last I saw her, she was on the telephone with Richard,"

"Cazzo," Matthew muttered, and Sybil glanced at him out of the corners of her eyes, stifling a giggle. "Go on, laugh at me," he said, rolling his eyes.

"I'm sorry, but you're so _obvious_ about all of this. Why not just tell her how you feel?"

"It… it isn't like that, Sybil. I can't just… never mind. I'm going to find William, and I'll be around for dinner. Ciao," Matthew kissed Sybil on the forehead and walked away, most likely to where his automobile was. She sighed and continued walking, passing the place that she and Tom had eaten breakfast at a couple weeks ago. If she was correct, Sybil could have sworn she saw him sitting there, eating breakfast alone. _Tom is most likely at home, sleeping in, _she told herself, passing by quickly.

* * *

"I'd just like to know if it's true," Richard calmly said. Mary could almost imagine him tapping his fingers on the desk to the tune of some jazzy song. She glanced out the window, then at the door, which was closed. Carson was no doubt standing outside, trying to listen, but Mary had picked the telephone up and carried it to the other side of the room. She was trying to keep her tone hushed, so he would be spared from the shame.

"What have you heard, exactly?" she asked, biting her lip. _Such a Sybil thing to do, now I'm going to need to use more of my ChapStick, _Mary thought.

"That a man sneaked into your room last night and the two of you had more fun together than you should have. And that the man in question is, _not surprisingly," _he paused for dramatic effect, "dead."

"Kemal is- dead?" Mary asked, choking on the final word. This brought on another wave of tears, and she used her sleeve to wipe them away.

"Ah, so you _did_ have fun with him. Do you know what this-"

"NO!" Mary stopped herself, hoping Carson hadn't heard her yelp. "No. He did sneak into the house, that I won't deny… but I barely knew him! We had met at dinner. Then he- forced himself onto me. I tried to stop him, Richard, I really did! And now he's- he's _dead._"

"I'll hide the story."

"What?"

"I'm the only newspaper who's gotten a whiff of this story, that's for sure. I know this because nobody else has published it yet. If they had known, it would have made the headlines of the Plain Dealer,"

"Don't you own the Plain Dealer?"

"No, but I will soon. Your father… never mind."

"What about my father?"

"It's nothing that concerns you. I should be going; I've got an interview with someone in ten minutes. Derci," he said, and the line went dead. Mary would have laughed at his shortening of 'arrivederci,' if she wasn't feeling so miserable.

At least her secret would be kept safe. By a dirty man who was doing who _knows_ what with her father to get stories.

* * *

"I'll only be an hour," Tom said, checking his watch. 1:50. He still had ten minutes.

"An hour? You expect me to just stay in this automobile for an _hour?"_

"I told you to bring a book,"

"Which I did, of course," she showed him her copy of _The Mysterious Affair at Styles,_ which had yet to be started.

"Then yes, I expect you to stay out here,"

"Can't I just come inside?" Sybil whined, folding her arms.

"I would bring you inside if I could, but it wouldn't be safe for you at all,"

"Are you doing business for my father?"

"Yes." Tom lied, getting out of the automobile as he said it so she wouldn't see through the façade.

"I'm coming in if it's more than an hour," Sybil said as he walked around to the door of the house.

Tom knocked on the door and Molly, Aidan's wife, answered the door. She gave him a small smile and closed the door behind him.

"Coffee before you go up?"

"That would be wonderful, Molly, thanks," Tom followed her into the small kitchen and stood by the counter as she prepared some, then pushed a few whiskey bottles across the table.

"Pick your poison," he picked up a random bottle and she filled the rest of the mug up with the alcohol, handing it to Tom.

"I think the only one not here yet is your brother, the doobry firkin. The others are playing with Aoife,"

"You sure you should be letting them do that?" Tom joked as he walked up the stairs. Opening the door to Aidan's 'study', he was greeted with thick smoke, a baby's giggling, and a loud chorus of "HEY!" from the men. Tom sat down at one of the empty seats, the other next to Aidan, who was talking to Conor.

"Where's the wanker of a brother at?" Barney asked, trying to drink with his cigar in his mouth. Nolan tipped Barney's cup back, making some of the coffee spill onto his shirt. Laughing, Nolan took Aoife and bounced her in his lap.

"You can't hurt me when I've got a wee lass!"

"I'll get you later, brother," Barney vowed, trying to get the coffee out of his shirt.

"Stop using my daughter as a shield and pass her over," Aidan said, and Brady took the baby, passing her around the table until her father had her. Tom wondered when _he_ would be having babies. Aidan made faces at Aoife, who kept giggling, then he blew a raspberry on her stomach. Didn't seem too bad, but then again, Molly was really the one taking care of her.

"I'm here, no need to worry," Kieran said, sitting down at the other empty seat and elbowing both Tom and Neil on his way there. Someone handed him a cigar and he lit it quickly, raising his eyebrows at Tom, who shook his head. Tom didn't like the way his lungs felt after he smoked, so he tried not to do it too often.

"Alright, meeting begins. So," Aidan said, glancing around to make everybody's attention, "We all know what happened last night. It was a success. Good!" the other men cheered, and Tom sank down in his seat a bit, taking a gulp of coffee to conceal his red face.

"Except! Except my wonderful friend Kemal Pamuk is dead. Shame. However, we've got a new friend who is a lawyer. Renzo Vallone," Tom's eyes bugged. _He_ was still going to help them after seeing Tom try to shoot him?

"We've told him about Tommy here being a secret double agent, which Renzo thinks is a _wonderful_ idea. Obviously I didn't tell him that it meant we'd be getting rid of their mob. Maybe not him, because he seems like a decent chap, but most of the others,"

"Tell us more about last night!" Conor said, grinning. Tom clenched his jaw as Aidan passed Aoife to Kieran, who bounced the baby on his knee while holding her with one hand.

"Well, I don't know many of the details because Kemal died, but I bet the little whore enjoyed it,"

"That was too far, Aidan!" Tom said, standing up and slamming his hands onto the table. Kieran shot him a warning glance and the others stared at him as if he had said the most ridiculous thing ever.

"What did you say, Branson?" Aidan asked, standing up as well.

"You know what you did, and you know it was wrong. That's disgusting."

"You knew it was going to happen!"

"I thought he was going to beat her up or-"

_"DON'T LIE TO ME, BRANSON!"_

Barney and Nolan were up and restrained Tom, grabbing his arms and holding them behind his back. Aidan walked over, slipping on crude, wooden brass knuckles Conor handed him, and started slugging Tom in the gut, going for a few minutes until he was panting.

"Seems like you're getting to be a bit more loyal to the other gang, Branson. Wanna take back what you said?"

"I'm not; I've seen what this does to people, and they-" Aidan was punching again, and went for the face a few times as well. Tom leaned over and spit out some blood, but he could feel more dribbling down from his nose.

"Had enough?"

"You know my history, Aidan. I can go for hours," Tom said, remembering what used to happen behind pubs every week.

* * *

_ "'Ey Branson! Get yer arse over 'ere!" Tom tried to run, but he was surrounded. They were beating him to a pulp, all for kissing the boy's little sister. Suddenly, the man who was on top of him was pulled off. A much younger Aidan grinned down._

_ "You okay, bud?" he asked, pulling Tom up._

_ "Drunk and a bit worse for wear, but yeah, I'm alright?"_

_ "I see this happens to you every week, huh."_

_ "Yeah," Tom rubbed the back of his neck, a bit uneasy. _

_ "If you join my gang, we can protect you. They won't get you anymore."_

_ "You mean the gang my brother is in?"_

_ "The one _both_ your brothers are in." Tom idolized Kieran back then, and joining the gang his older brother was in would be a dream come true._

_ "Am I allowed to join?"_

_ "I don't think another Branson boy will hurt!"_

_ When he joined, Tom had been beat up worse than he ever had been. But after that, nobody beat him up again._

* * *

Until now.

"Go. Get out of my sight. I don't want to see you, hear from you, anything _related_ to you until you get me _good, reliable information!"_ Aidan yelled. Barney and Nolan released Tom and he dropped to the floor, picking himself up and scrambling out of the room, but not before he glanced at his brother.

"Good lot he was," Tom muttered, pulling his handkerchief out and stopping at the mirror in the main hall. Molly gave him a sorry glance, and he knew she had heard everything. She was more sympathetic, but Tom didn't want sympathy. He cleaned his face as best as he could and hurried out to the car, where Sybil was still waiting.

"God, what happened to you? You look like you got into a rumble!" she said, pulling her own embroidered handkerchief out. Sybil offered it to him, but he protested.

"Take it, I've got more at home," she pressed it against a cut Tom didn't know he had on his forehead and staunched the blood, then put the handkerchief in his hand.

"Thanks," he said, and she smiled.

"That wasn't an hour," Tom said, and Sybil snorted.

"I think we should go for gelato."

"What?"

"That stuff like ice cream I got you for dessert the one time. You know, I know the _perfect _place. It's on that road near… wait…" and they were off again, Tom rolling his eyes at her horrible directions that still got them to the right place, despite almost running a red light.

* * *

"We've made wonderful progress on Edith's wedding planning," Cora said, sipping some wine. The family was sitting around the dinner table, eating some of Violet's gnocchi with meat sauce and some of Cora's potatoes on the side. Needless to say, the pasta was gone within minutes, while the potatoes stayed on the dishes until people were eating them just to make her feel better.

"We just made an appointment to look at dresses, Mamma, that's not that big of a deal,"

"It is to me! I'm marrying off the first of my daughters,"

"She makes it seem like it's a grandiose affair. In the old country, you had ten children and married them to the most successful farmer when they turned sixteen," Violet grumbled to Robert, who chuckled and glanced, concerned, at Mary. However, she was talking to Matthew, which was a good sign, since she had locked herself in her room all day after speaking to Richard.

"Are you alright?" Matthew asked, leaning slightly away from the table.

"How could I be alright? After something like this?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make it seem so… simple,"

"No, no, you're concerned, and that's fine,"

"I hear I'm the first person besides Carson- and Richard- you've talked to all day,"

"Perhaps," Mary turned red and took a sip of wine.

"If that is the case, I'd like to say I feel very privileged,"

"Aren't you romantic." The two redirected their attention to Cora.

"What did Rosetta have to say?" Cora asked, Sybil shrugging.

"Not much. She talked about Mussolini a bit, how they've had to lay low because he's trying to eradicate the mafia. It was funny, she posted the letter under another last name so I thought the letter wasn't actually mine," Robert stared at Sybil, and she stared back at him, taken aback.

"I need to go call gamberetto," he said, standing up. "But please, continue the dinner without me. I'm sure it will be nothing,"

"Never give a man too much power," Violet muttered.

* * *

**A/N: So I've got a couple responses, but I would like to say something about the history in this story. I'm really trying to get this right historically, and I've had a bit of fun looking up some stuff. Obviously, as this takes place in late 1927 (at this point), the Stock Market Crash in 1929 is going to be featured heavily. But because they're Italian immigrants and still have relatives over there (gamberetto is Shrimpie!), Mussolini's rise to power as the fascist dictator is going to be really important as well. I've always pictured Sybil and Rose as friends, so she would be Sybil's closest friend, and they would tell each other everything through mail. But enough history, now for responses!**

**Guest: (Whichever one that responded about feeling 'uneasy' or something like that) I hope you feel a bit better this chapter :)**

**val1886: Really? Huh! The website I was using had Sibulla as old Italian, so that might be it.**

**Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and sorry about the long wait! This is my longest chapter yet :D**


	9. Chapter 8

_September 1927_

Sybil picked up a hymnal book from the table in the back, blessed herself with holy water, and proceeded down the aisle after her parents, grandmother, and sister. They all kneeled and made the sign of the cross before entering the pew, and filed down to the end. Settling herself down next to Edith, Sybil noticed her sister wildly looking around everywhere.

"What are you looking for?" she asked, taking her cloche hat off.

"Anthony. He said he would come to church with me this week but I can't see him anywhere!"

"Is he even religious?"

"I… I don't know." Sybil sighed and sat back in her seat. The planning for Edith's wedding was going along very smoothly, with the bridesmaid dresses already picked out and her dress almost finished. However, Anthony had expressed some disagreements with certain parts of the wedding- like the church, and the reception venue.

Someone slid in to the pew next to Sybil, and she came face to face with Tom.

"Hello!" she said, grinning.

"You're excited for mass," he joked.

"No, I'm excited to see you. Mass is the same as always,"

"Which is?"

"An hour long and Mary insisting she isn't showing off her singing skills," Tom looked past Sybil to see Violeta, Matthew, Isobel, Robert, Cora, and Edith, but no Mary. "She's in the choir loft. Soprano," she said, almost reading his mind.

"I was in the choir at my church in Dublin, you know,"

"Really?"

"As a boy, yes. But my mam wouldn't let me be castrated so they had to let me go," Sybil pressed her hand to her mouth to silence the giggles racking her body, but it was no use. Edith shot her a glare, but it wasn't until they had to stand for the entrance of the priest that she was able to stop. Amused, Tom watched with a satisfied smile on his face. He pretended to turn around to watch Father Sante proceed down the aisle, but was really checking to see if his brother was in the back.

Kieran was standing in one of the last pews next to Aidan and Molly, who was bouncing Aiofe a bit. Aidan nodded at Tom, who turned around and did the sign of the cross with everyone else. His heart was pounding- who knew what Aidan would do in the same room as Roberto Crawleo. Yes, it was the only Catholic Church in town, so members of the Maroni mob were probably around as well, but it could have been a ticking time bomb for all Tom knew.

Mass went by somewhat quickly- and uneventfully, like Sybil knew it would- with nothing bad happening. During mass.

"This isn't going to be good," Sybil muttered as they walked out.

"Why not?" Tom asked, blessing himself with holy water after the girls had gone.

"Look who Papa is with," Edith said. Tom did as she said, but the man didn't seem like anything special. He had black, slicked-back hair, a long nose, and a suit almost as nice as Roberto's. But the man was wearing a Maroni watch.

"We're at church, so it's not considered honorable to do anything too close. Everything's _got_ to be about honor. Gino hasn't talked to Papa since April," Sybil explained. Glancing around, Tom's eyes landed on Renzo Vallone. Renzo winked and tilted his head towards Aidan, who he had been talking to. Nervous that he was so close to both his bosses, _and_ the boss of the Maronis, Tom tugged at his shirt collar and took a deep breath.

"Are you alright?" Edith asked, pulling Tom from the clouds.

"I-"

"You look like you're about to faint," Sybil said.

"Yes, he's very pale. I'll get some water from Sister Filomena," Edith gave her handbag to Sybil and walked off in pursuit of the priest. Mary approached with Matthew in tow.

"She's going somewhere in a hurry," she commented.

"Poor Tom looks like he's about to faint so she's going to find Sister Filomena and ask for some water," Sybil said. Mary glanced at Tom, then Matthew, then at Roberto.

"I'm going to find somewhere to sit," Tom said. The three Crawleos nodded and he walked to the steps outside the church, sitting down.

"So, I was thinking that we should go to dinner with Matthew. Just us three sisters and him, like old times. We can catch up,"

"Mary, we all eat dinner together on Sundays. We-"

"There are things we cannot talk about when Nonna, or Papa, or even Ma-ma is around. Especially Ma-ma," Mary hissed. She glanced at their mother, who was warily watching Roberto and Gino Maroni.

"Nonna's going to kill us for not eating dinner with the family,"

"If we're being technical it is family. Just not at home,"

"Where exactly are we going to go?"

"My mother's house," Matthew said.

"Isobel's?" Sybil asked.

"Yes."

"Is there something I don't know about? Why are we suddenly mentioning things we can't talk about in front of Nonna and-"

"Later," Mary said as Edith arrived with a glass of water.

"I'll take this to Tom," Sybil exchanged the glass for Edith's handbag and walked over to the steps, sitting down next to Tom. She handed it to him and he gulped all of the water down in seconds.

"Feel any better now that you've sat down?"

"Much better. Who's Gino?"

"The boss of the Maroni mob. He's only recently become the boss because his papa passed down the position."

"What happened to him?"

"Arturo Maroni is now the consigliere. He got into a firefight and was seriously injured a few years ago. His oldest son, Salvatore, would have gotten the boss position, but he was injured in the Great War. Salvatore's just the underboss. He's the one standing behind Gino, talking to the blonde lady,"

"Sounds complicated."

"Welcome to the mob!" Sybil laughed. "That's what happened with Papa. In 1900, Nonno Seppe was killed and he took over, though he had just turned eighteen. Big stuff. Then in aught six the family moved over, and I was born three years later,"

"You sure know your family history,"

"I can tell you more, if you'd like,"

"Go on," Tom prompted. He hoped she'd say something important if she kept telling him.

"Let me think… well, Ma-ma went on a trip to Italy in aught two, met Papa, and they got married in aught three. Granny sent her down because according to Ma-ma she said 'Italians aren't too picky.' They fell madly in love, from what Papa's said. In nineteen seventeen the Double I Struggle took place- I don't suppose you know about that?"

"No idea."

"It's called Double I because it was between Italians and the Irish, here in Cleveland. Us against the Nolans. It was a big power and land struggle. We managed to beat them after six months or so, and they left town. I think that's when Thomas joined. He's been with us a while. He used to babysit me, actually, because I was eight then. Matthew and Isobel moved from Toledo to Cleveland in twenty, and it's been pretty uneventful since then."

"Thomas used to babysit you?"

"Yes! We were great friends, actually. People in the mob weren't very kind to him back then, and I think babysitting me was some sort of escape. I was an unruly kid," she grinned, biting her lip.

"You still are." he grinned back.

"Hey!" Sybil swatted his upper arm and pretended to be offended.

"Sybil, we're going now," Mary said, and the younger sister stood up quickly, trying to hide the blush that was overcoming her face.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Tom," she said, turning to follow Mary to the automobile. Tom smiled and waved, then stood up, leaving the glass on the steps. Somebody would find it, he reasoned.

"Flirting with your boss's daughter, I see," Aidan said. Tom whipped around, surprised, and almost punched his _real_ boss.

"She gives me information."

"I'm not stupid, I get that. Nice. Kieran wouldn't have been able to pull that off. The girl tell you anything good today?"

"They had a struggle over power and land with an Irish mob in seventeen. The Nolans. She was eight then, so I don't think she'll know too much about their members or strategies. We can't compare them to ourselves,"

"Was the Maroni gang around back then?"

"Not sure. There was a recent boss change, but that's all I know on them."

"We can question Renzo at a later time. He's proven to be a great ally- the rest of my family can come over because he made me fake passports and such. Kieran's talking to your family to see if the same can be done for them," Tom thought of his other older brother, his two younger sisters, Mam, and Da. For them, the States would be very different, yet similar. In the two years before joining the Crawleos on business, Tom had struggled to find and keep jobs. People here were prejudiced against the Irish. The lack of work didn't help, either.

"Sounds good,"

"Can't be losing my best man," Aidan clapped Tom on the shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile. "I'll see you around. Regards from Molly." He left Tom standing on the steps of St. Rocco's.

* * *

"Mary, what is this about you not wanting to say in front of anyone?" Sybil asked. She was stuck in the backseat, with Edith driving and Mary in the front.

"It's been two months since I've been a woman," Mary said ominously, staring out the window.

"Excuse me?" Edith asked. "You're almost twenty-two, Mary. I'm pretty sure you-"

"I haven't bled!"

"You mean your menstrual period?" Sybil asked, confused.

"Yes! I was supposed to get it last month around the time of… you know, and I didn't. I figured I was late. But I haven't gotten it this month, either,"

"There are irregularities. Didn't Ma-ma have trouble with it when she was younger?" Edith asked, tightening her grip on the steering wheel.

"I haven't had an irregularity for nine years, Edith. The only people who have that are Ma-ma and Sybil."

"Hey!" Sybil cried.

"It's true, isn't it?"

"… yes."

"Are you insinuating that you're pregnant?" Edith asked.

Silence. It was broken by Mary choking on her sob.

"Does anybody else know?" Sybil asked, resting a hand on her older sister's arm.

"Isobel and Matthew, which is why I wanted to have dinner with them. This is horrible, I _cannot_ be pregnant!"

"We don't know that you are yet, for sure, at least,"

"But I am- I just know I am!"

"How do Isobel and Matthew know? What did they say?"

"I was at their house and I came out of the bathroom holding my things, you know. Isobel was there, Matthew not far behind, and she asked me if everything was alright. She said I looked very troubled. I broke down right there, unable to control myself," Mary paused, blowing her nose into her handkerchief. "Matthew looked like he wanted to kill someone, and he left the house in a rage not long after. Isobel, being a nurse, was able to sit me down and help me. When we go back she's going to have proper equipment to... diagnose me correctly,"

"I pray that you aren't," Edith said, and Sybil nodded.

"Thank you, Edith. I know we haven't gotten along well in the past, but I appreciate that you're supporting me,"

"I just hope you would do the same."

"Yes, I would. I will,"

"We're almost there," Sybil said, staring at the house down the road.

"So help me God," Mary muttered, trying to erase the evidence of her tears.

* * *

"He accused me of murdering some of his men behind the scenes," Robert said, taking a drag on his cigar.

"Have you?" Cora asked, working on her embroidery. She didn't understand why everything had to be such a big ordeal. Alright, so she didn't agree with what her husband did. But Cora loved and trusted him, and she reasoned that Robert knew what he was doing.

"We haven't killed anyone from their mob since early August. These two men died last week."

"Have any of the boys killed someone out of anger?"

"They don't _do_ that, Cora! They work on orders. There's somebody else out there killing those boys. Gino told me there wouldn't be any revenge if I told him there. I told him that an honorable man would own up to his murders and that they aren't my doing,"

"And?"

"He's pissed, obviously. But he's managed to recruit four boys recently, so it softens the blow a bit,"

"Only you could think something like that would soften the blow of a death,"

"I mean that in a completely business-related manner."

"And only you would think that this mob you run is like a business,"

"The inner machinations of the Crawleo mob are an enigma. Unless you're a part of it, you won't understand it."

"I don't even try to understand it, Robert. I'm going up to bed," she placed her embroidery on the table next to the couch and stood up. Robert held out his arms and Cora hesitantly walked into them, hugging him, then stepping back. "Goodnight,"

"Buonanotte, Cora," he said, leaning back into the chair.

* * *

**Dun dun dun... you're left with a cliffhanger!**


	10. Chapter 9

_Earlier that night…_

"Mary, you can come in the bathroom with me," Isobel said, and the door shut. Edith and Sybil looked at each other nervously, and Matthew entered the family room from the hallway. They were sitting on the blue velvet couch, both staring at the hall leading to the bathroom.

"I swear, if she is, I'm going to…" he trailed off.

"Kill someone?" Sybil finished.

"The asshole, yes,"

"I'll be right there next to you," Edith said. The other two nodded and he sat down on the chair closest to the fireplace.

"It's imperative that nobody else finds out," Sybil said, staring at the flames.

"I wouldn't dream of telling anybody," Matthew ran a hand through his slicked-back hair and sighed. "There's some food in the kitchen, it's kind of a hodgepodge dinner. Serve yourself sort of thing."

"Well, I'm starving." Sybil stood up and made her way into the kitchen, Edith following not long after.

"Matthew, aren't you going to get something?" Edith asked as she returned to the family room. Sybil sat back down next to her, taking a bite of her cold-cut sandwich.

"I'm not hungry. Do take more if you still are, though,"

"Isobel really did make a lot of food. She didn't need to make that much,"

"We don't normally have anyone over for dinner. It makes Mother happy to do things for other people. Gives her a sort of purpose,"

"I'd love to have that," Sybil said.

"What? Purpose?"

She nodded. "I never feel like I'm doing anything of… substance. There's really no reason for me to get a job, yet it seems like something that would be worthwhile. And there's a purpose to having a job. There's no purpose to what I do."

"Which is?"

"I usually sit around all day and read. If Tom has to do something I'll accompany him, sometimes we'll go out to eat or see a film or something like that. But that's it."

"Why not volunteer? Mother has lots of girls who do that at the hospital. It'll be filled with purpose- you'd be helping people."

Sybil grinned, wondering why she hadn't thought of that before. "Brilliant. I might have to jump on that offer,"

"Good Lord, Matthew, you've given her an idea. Now we'll never hear the end of it," Edith groaned.

* * *

Arriving home to the apartment, Tom saw that Thomas was the only person sitting at their usually occupied kitchen table. He was puffing away with one of his cigarettes, like always, and reading a newspaper. Seeing an opportunity to seize, Tom sat down at the table and sighed, leaning back against the uncomfortable slats of the chair.

"So… care to explain?"

"Explain what?" Thomas asked, balancing his cigarette between his teeth. He didn't bother to glance up, just turned the page of the newspaper and read whatever article was at the top.

"The accent, the Great War uniform that looks awfully similar to the British army's uniform, occasional Brit words."

"I haven't the foggiest of what you're talking about."

"Look, Thomas. I just want answers. It's not like I'm going to announce everything to the world."

"For all _I_ know, you might!"

"So you are hiding something."

"Never said that. If you'll excuse me, I have business to conduct," Thomas stood up, but Tom was blocking the door in seconds. The two men stared at each other for a moment before Thomas narrowed his eyes. "I see how it's going to be."

"Answers. That's it, I swear."

"And how do I know you'll hold that up?"

"You'd have to trust me and hope that one day I can keep my trap shut."

Thomas raised his eyebrows and rocked back and forth on his heels.

"You have to do a favor for me, then. I have a hostage to take- and have some fun with- this Saturday. If you come along and help me with it, because they aren't easy to do alone, I'll tell you. But I get all the money. You won't be paid at all."

"Deal."

"And if I ask you for a favor in the future, you'd better say alright."

"Deal." The two men stuck out their hands and hesitantly shook, not breaking eye contact. They were watching each other like cowboys waiting for a draw.

"Why don't I make some tea?" Thomas asked, strolling over to the kitchen and taking out Tom's kettle, filling it with water and setting it on the stove, turning the heat on.

"I'd guess you're the culprit behind my depleted supply," Tom said, sitting back down and casually flipping through the newspaper. One of Richard Carlisle's, he would bet.

"You guessed correctly." Leaving the kettle on the stove, Thomas sat down in his chair across from Tom and stared at the younger man.

"My friend Sarah O'Brien sent money for me to come to the States back in nineteen sixteen. I had been saving up money from my job as a hall boy at a nice house and as an army medic, but it had been spent on getting myself out of jail."

"Hall boy? You were only a hall boy?" Tom couldn't believe what he was hearing. How was this man a hall boy before the war, yet an army doctor in the war?

_"_At a good house, I'll have you know. Very grand, had a huge staff. That was before the war. As soon as the war started I joined the army as a medic, and I eventually got up to the rank of Corporal. But then... there was this officer, and I became, well, fond of him." Thomas paused, glancing at his watch, then at the kettle.

"We were arrested on charges of buggery. Demoted, sent back to England. Tried in court, sentenced. He was a Duke, so he got out of the sentence and went back to the front. I was not so lucky. I received six years in prison, and I managed to escape with help, but most of my money to immigrate to the States was lost in the process. I couldn't go back to being a hall boy because I was supposed to be in prison and was too old at that point, so I dabbled in the black market. Then, at the end of sixteen, the package came from O'Brien. A ticket and money to cover my traveling expenses."

"Just like that? With no explanation?" the kettle whistled and Thomas stood up quickly, taking it off the stove and preparing their tea, bringing it over to the table. He added a little sugar in his, while Tom absentmindedly stirred his spoon around the cup, not adding anything.

"Oh, there was a letter. She needed someone to do what she couldn't do herself. Her nephew, Alfred, was too innocent at the time. Still a little kid, actually. He's around Edith's age. So O'Brien sent the money and a month later, in seventeen, I was in New York after being deemed safe to immigrate. Took the citizenship test a while later though." Tom remembered the citizenship test, and how he had passed it with ease. He wasn't all brawn; in fact, Tom had been a skinny little lad who excelled in academics before becoming a teenager.

"Then when I got here Robert pounced on me. He had no idea of my relation to O'Brien, who is Cora's lady's maid, if you didn't know. One night he found me on a street corner dealing some things I had smuggled from across the pond. The next night I'm going through initiation, and a month later I was part of the mob. Except since the Double I Struggle was going on, they made me babysit the kids, because I was only nineteen. That was ten years ago."

"So why bother hiding the accent and not telling anyone?"

"I'm _getting there_, you impatient tosser. I'm doing it so that I can't be associated with Thomas Barrow from Manchester, in case they ever get a whiff of my trail here. I'm still a wanted man. I escaped my prison sentence seven months in, barely got out of the country. Someone recognized me. Not good."

"That's really it, then."

"Yes."

"I won't tell anyone. Not even a halfway decent story." Thomas almost laughed at this, and looked out the window at the incoming rain clouds. He looked back at the door, then Tom, then his cup of tea.

"Imagine if Jimmy walked in right now. He'd call us old men and force us to go do shots at a speakeasy."

"He's eighteen. To him we practically _are_ old men. Well, at least you are." The two laughed at this, closer than they had been before Thomas's confession.

* * *

"Has Mary _still _been in there since I've left?" Matthew asked, walking back inside. He had left an hour earlier to go make a deal, leaving the two girls to listen to a radio drama that was far from being dramatic.

"Oh, they went upstairs just a little after you left. Mary didn't say anything, but Isobel told us there was some cake in the refrigerator," Sybil said.

"Did you save some for me?"

"I wasn't hungry, but Sybil ate some. What kind was it?" Edith asked.

"Just vanilla cake with some vanilla frosting and strawberries. Very tasty. You should go have a piece, Matthew," Sybil said, turning the dial on the radio down.

Matthew left the room and came back with his cake as there was a clap of thunder outside. Edith sighed, fiddling with her hands, as Sybil turned around to look out the window.

"Ominous," she continued.

"Ominous indeed," Mary said. All three turned, surprised, and stared at her face, which was dark. Stepping forward and sitting down on the chair next to Matthew's, Mary sighed. Isobel joined them seconds later, sitting on the couch with the girls.

"Please tell me 'ominous indeed' doesn't mean you're pregnant." Edith said.

"Unfortunately it… it does. I'm ruined, completely ruined! Now you're living the perfect life with your fiancé, and your wedding, and your untarnished reputation! I'll tell you this, Edith. Never in my life have I envied you. But right now? Right now I would give _anything_ to be you."

"Are you going to have the baby? Or try for an abortion?" Sybil asked.

"An abortion?" the little color that had been in Mary's cheeks disappeared. "That's illegal, Sybil! Besides, I couldn't kill someone… even if it's spawned from someone I hate." Matthew glared at the fire, and Isobel knew what he was thinking about.

"It may be illegal, but nobody would have to know. And we have connections. You could-"

"No. Sybil, I'm not," Mary said in a tone that was very final. Defeated, Sybil pouted, slouched down, and crossed her arms in a very unladylike manner.

The sisters left a half hour later, once the storm had cleared, and Sybil stopped to talk to Matthew.

"I felt helpless as she said it. And… and I don't like feeling that way. I'm going to do something. Make a way for myself."

"Sybil, I will support you in any way I can." He smiled and pulled his young cousin in for a hug, letting her rush out to the automobile to get home.

* * *

"It has to stop."

"Yes, Gino, we know. But we have no evidence against the Crawleo mob. How do we even know it's them? Someone we made a bad deal with may have a vendetta they want to carry out," Renzo said. Gino snarled, turning back to the window, where he was staring out at the storm.

"Tell me, Renzo. How many bad deals have we made since I became boss?"

"Two."

"Did we settle them?"

"Yes."

"Exactly. Here's how I want you to help. You've been hanging around the Irish gangs lately. See what they have to say, get some information from them."

"What makes you think they're going to know?"

"Maybe there's going to be a second Double I Struggle. We don't know. But making the Irish our allies could prove to be useful. For all we know, it could help us bring the Crawleos to their knees so we can take what is ours."

"They were in the city first, though, weren't they?"

"In this century, yes. But the Maroni mob had control back in the nineteenth century, and we're going to take that control back."

The door opened and a young boy who looked strikingly similar to Gino walked in.

"Papa? Antonio Tomi was found dead ten minutes ago. They arrested someone, but we don't know who yet."

"Thank you, Nino. You may go now." the boy nodded and closed the door behind himself. Gino glanced over at Renzo, smirking slightly.

"Let's hope it's a Crawleo bastard, so we can exact our vengeance."

* * *

**A/N: is it sad that I had to google how to use a kettle to make sure I got it right? Hehehe… Also, I got my braces off! Finally! Woo! Hopefully you liked this chapter, despite parts of it being kind of filler-y.  
**


End file.
